


The Bonds that We Save

by Fall_into_your_sunlight



Series: Marching On Verse [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fall_into_your_sunlight/pseuds/Fall_into_your_sunlight
Summary: Tim finally has a family in Gibbs, Jackson, and the rest of the team.  Unfortunately when his mother returns she brings a world of trouble with her.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third story in my Marching On Verse. It probably won't make sense unless you read the first two stories. Many many thanks to my beta naemi who seriously is the best, and my stories are always a hundred percent better after she is done with them. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Also a huge thank you to my artist g_love99 they gave me so much art to chose from and it was all so awesome, you can see more [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309310) . Thank you to solariana for putting this challenge together! Written for the ncis_bang. Also written for hc_bingo square: substance addiction.

 

_We'll have the days_ _we break_

_And we'll have the scars to prove it_

_We'll have the bonds we save_

_And we'll have the heart not to lose it_

_~Marchin On by OneRepublic_

 

_Sunday_

 

Tim dashed down the basement stairs, in a hurry to join his father.  He had finally finished with his homework.  He had finals this upcoming week, and then he would be done with school, at least until July when summer school started.  According to his teachers, he had one more block of classes left, and then he would be officially caught up with his fellow students.  Tim was excited, but he was also worn out.  He was ready for school to be over and done with. 

 

It had been six months since _the incident,_ as Tim was still calling it.  He was now only seeing Dr. Patterson a couple a times a month rather than every week.  Which was definitely an improvement as far as Tim was concerned.  He did recognize that therapy had done him some good, but he past was the past.  Best ignored and forgotten about.  

 

His father was standing next to the work bench in the middle of the room.  When he looked up, he gave Tim a broad smile, and waved him over.  Gibbs was working on a project for the local VA.  They were having a fundraising auction in August, and he was building a table and chairs that could be auctioned off.  Tim was still impressed by how talented Gibbs was.  He could build just about anything. 

 

“How’s it going?” Tim asked.  

 

Gibbs pointed behind him. “I’ve finished up the main pieces,” Tim could see a round table with four chairs pushed against the wall.  “I’m now working on the decorative trim pieces.”

 

Now that Tim was standing in front of the bench, he saw long pieces of oak that were in various stages of completeness.  Some just had rough pencil sketches drawn along the length, others had grooves cut out of them in a rough outline of the final design.  One was completely finished.  Moving closer, Tim could see the design was of ocean waves.  Some were only small curls, but others were high crests that peaked at the top of the piece. 

 

“Wow.  These are awesome,” Tim said, wonder echoing in every word. 

 

“Thanks Tim,” Gibbs said in a pleased voice. “If you want, I can teach you how to carve the designs?”

 

Looking over the various knives and chisels on the bench that Gibbs used to carve the waves, Tim wanted to say yes.  He couldn’t help but flashback to the moment he had stood up and driven the chisel into the stomach of the man in the ski mask.  The smell of gunpowder, the way the blood ran over his hand, and the scream that had echoed through the air.

 

Turning away, Tim counted to ten, just like Dr. Patterson had taught him, to stave off a panic attack.  He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he permitted his father to draw him into a hug.  Tim allowed himself to be comforted for a minute before he pulled away.  He gave a concerned Gibbs a reassuring smile. 

 

“Not yet.  One day,” Tim said.  It was the truth.  Tim wanted to learn, but he wasn’t ready.  That was another thing Dr. Patterson had helped him with: to recognize what his limitations were and that they were not failures, only the reality for the moment.  Also, just because he was unable to handle something today didn’t mean it would always be that way.  He needed to have patience with himself

 

“When you’re ready,” Gibbs stated before ruffling his hair.  “How about you help me by sanding off the rough edges?”

 

Tim smiled in relief. That was something he appreciated about his dad.  He never made fun of him or tried to push him.  Tim was allowed to say no, and that no was respected. 

 

He was reaching for the sandpaper when he spied a new addition to one of the shelves that was against the window.  Gibbs used to have an old dial radio that only got oldies stations and static. Now, there was a CD radio combo unit.

 

Turning back towards Gibbs, Tim was about to ask when he was handed a CD case.

 

“I thought this would give us something to listen to other than elevator music,” Gibbs said.

 

Turning the case over, Tim saw it was an audio book of _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translation by J.R.R. Tolkien._

 

“Have you read that one yet?” Gibbs asked.

 

“Actually, no.  I’ve always wanted to, though,” Tim said excitedly.  “Thank you so much.  This is awesome!  Can I put it on?”

 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Gibbs chuckled, at Tim’s enthusiasm. 

 

Tim popped the CD into the player.  He was beyond stoked.  J.R.R. Tolkien was one of his favorite authors, but he had never read his take on the Arthurian legend of the Green Knight.

 

After making sure the disk would play, Tim returned to stand next to his father who handed him the sandpaper, and they got to work.

 

Sanding the rough edges was a somewhat mindless job, so Tim watched as his father picked up a carving knife and begun to transform the wood grain into a rolling ocean scene, and vowed that one day, he would be able to join him. 

 

Tim and Gibbs worked side by side through the afternoon as the words of the unknown poet drifted through the air.

 

_“Under heaven the first in fame,_

_Their king most high in pride;_

_It would now be hard to name_

_A troop in war so tried…”_

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Seeing none of the beauty of the garden laid out before him, Jude stood on the porch.  He usually liked spending time out front, especially in the evenings.  Sometimes, him and the Doc would sit on the porch swing in the early evenings, watching the sunset and just talking about anything and everything.  Ducky had a million and one stories up his sleeve, and somehow he always was able to tell one that got Jude to begin talking as well. 

 

The Doc’s house was situated on a quiet street, so it was always fairly peaceful until the crickets started in the early evening, and even then Jude couldn’t begrudge the small noise they made.  Mostly because his new life was so different and better than his old, and Jude was very grateful for the second chance given to him by Ducky.

 

Except for now he was being confronted with exactly how much he was lacking, in the education department at last.  Jude rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. He was craving a cigarette something fierce.  He had involuntarily broken the habit while he was in the hospital, but there were still times when he would kill for a one.  

 

“Well, maybe not kill, only slightly maim,” Jude thought with a smirk on his face.

 

The reason he was missing nicotine like a lost limb was he had taken the first of seven practice tests for his GED.  He had taken the exam through a website that had been set by the state to help people become more prepared to take the test.  Jude had felt pretty confident going into it, but that confidence had slowly but surely slipped away after each question he had answered.  Now Ducky had been tutoring Jude and helping him get caught up, but apparently, he still had a long way to go.

 

He had turned seventeen in March, and it was now June.  Jude had nine months until he turned eighteen, and he wanted to get his GED before then.  Once he had his GED he could get a job and move out.  Although he loved it here, he wasn’t going to be a burden on the Doc any longer than he had to.  He wasn’t a leech.   

 

**~NCIS~**

 

_Six months previous_

 

“Here is the remote,” Ducky said, pointing at the grey rectangle remote that was next to a bottle of water, a cell phone, and a stack of novels on the side table next to Jude’s bed.  “There is also a selection of books I thought you might be interested in.  If those don’t interest you, I have more in the library, which is down the hall.” 

 

Jude painfully scooted up until he was sitting against the headboard.  He felt winded just from that small movement, so he didn’t think he would be getting up all that much.  Jude had left the hospital yesterday afternoon and had felt nothing but the need to rest as much as possible.  He kept drifting off in the middle of everything, watching TV, reading, even conversations.  Thankfully, Ducky gave him a room with a bathroom because he didn’t think he could make it any further than that.  He was doing much better since the attack, but he was still so weak and needed more help than he usually did. 

 

Ducky threaded one arm through his jacket, then the other arm, and buttoned it up.  “Now, I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours.  I know you just had lunch, but you are more than welcome to make yourself some food if you wish.  I would recommend you stay in bed and rest up as much as possible though.  I don’t like leaving you so early in your recovery but I need to sign some paperwork at the office.”

 

Jude couldn’t help but stare at Ducky in shock.  “You’re just going to leave me, a virtual stranger, alone in your house?”

 

“Well yes,” Ducky said gently, with a confused look on his face.

 

“But you don’t know me.  I could rob you blind in the couple of hours you’re gone and then just disappear never to be seen again,” Jude said slowly.

 

Ducky’s eyebrows raised a bit before he gave a chuckle. “Oh undoubtedly you could at least give it a good college try.  And you could even get a fair amount before I returned, but I am not worried because I know you.”

 

Jude started to shake his head, but Ducky held up his hand to stop his denial, “I know we haven’t known each other long, so of course there are things I do not know but I also have faith in you, Mr. Carrington.”

 

Ducky gave him a reassuring smile before he left.  Jude just stared in disbelief at the spot where the Doc had been standing.  He knew Ducky was not naïve.  No one could live the life that he had without being gaining experience and knowledge, in the workings of people, and both the good and the bad that they could do.  Still the man was too trusting. Reaching for the remote so he could watch the game, Jude decided he would have to keep an eye out for him. 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

_Present_

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jude saw the porch light come on.  He knew he needed to go back inside because the last thing he wanted was for Ducky to come outside.  The Doc had been fighting a pretty severe cold all week, and Jude didn’t want the elderly man to have a setback.  Ducky was a good guy, and he was always worrying about others, but he needed to take better care of himself. 

 

Walking back into the house, Jude took off his baseball cap, hung it on the hall tree next to the door, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.  He was so happy to have his hair finally back to the length it had been before his attack.  He glanced briefly into the mirror and scowled a bit at his reflection.  Although his black hair covered up most of the scar, it was still visible where it went diagonally across his forehead for about three inches.  Jude briefly ran his finger over the mark, before shaking his head with a chuckle.  When had he become so vain?

 

Walking into the kitchen, Jude saw that Ducky was bustling around the small room, getting dinner ready.

 

“Jude, there you are.  I was just cooking dinner.  Why don’t you start the salad?”  Ducky said as he was sautéing onions on the stove.

 

Reaching into the fridge and grabbing the vegetables, Jude said, “No problem, Doc.”

 

Setting up the cutting board and starting to cut up tomatoes for the salad, he listened with half an ear to the Doc starting to tell a story about the time he had been on maneuvers with his outfit when they had been stranded in the middle of nowhere with minimal supplies.  The story was both entertaining and funny especially the way Ducky told it.  Although at the time, it must have been cold and miserable.  After smiling and laughing through their prep for dinner, they were soon sitting at the dining room table, feasting on chicken risotto, and salad.  Ducky was a good cook and seemed to really enjoy trying new recipes.  Jude considered himself lucky that he got to taste all of his culinary experiments. 

 

Once they were mostly finished, Jude asked, “How are you feeling?”  Ducky looked better, but he was still pale.

 

“I appreciate the concern Jude, but I am doing fine,” Ducky said with a comforting smile, although his voice was a bit raspy.

 

“Okay,” Jude said with an uncertain smile in return.

 

Ducky cleared his throat and said in a voice laced with sympathy, “I didn’t want to disturb you earlier on the porch, but you do seem troubled.  Jude, it is only a practice exam.  Its purpose is to make you aware of where your weaknesses are so you can shore up those areas.”

 

Jude said bitterly, “Well it certainly did that.”  Then, seeing Ducky looking back at him with nothing but patient understanding on his face, Jude continued, “You’re right.  It was just a wakeup call for me.  That’s all.  I will have to work harder.”

 

Ducky patted him comfortingly on the hand. “You already work so hard at your studies.  I am not at all worried you will pass the GED with flying colors come August.”

 

He started to rise and take the plates, but Jude beat him to it.  “Why don’t you go rest in the living room?  Do you want some tea?”

 

With a beleaguered yet amused sigh, Ducky said, “Yes, tea sounds delightful.  And I will go rest even though I do not need it, but only if you will join me afterwards.  We can play a round or two of cards.”

 

“You have deal.”

 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Placing the last of the freshly laundered clothes in the wooden dresser, Cathy shut the drawer and turned around.  Making one last inspection of the room she realized something was missing.  Digging through the mostly empty shopping bags gathered at the bottom of the twin bed that was pushed against the far wall, she finally emerged with a triumphant “Aha!” She pulled out a brown leather-bound gilt-edged book from the last bag.  Smiling widely, Cathy hugged the book to her heart before placing it gently on the side table next to the bed.  She opened the front cover and ran a finger over the inscription. 

 

_“To Timothy, With Love Always Mom.”_

Closing the cover and making sure the book was perfectly straight, Cathy smiled slightly.  Before she changed her mind and picked it up again.  She would take it with her as sort of peace offering for Tim.  The journal was one of the first purchases she had made when she had gotten out of Oceanside Rehab.  Tim was always writing in his journal, so she knew she had to have it as soon as she had seen it in the window.  Scooping up the now empty shopping bags, Cathy took in a deep breath, and taking a few steps back, looked around the room.  It was a medium sized room with a large window that let in a lot of natural Arizona sunlight; it also had a bed, a dresser, and a desk with a new computer on it.  It was perfect.  Tim would love the room.  It was where he belonged. 

 

Walking down the hall, Cathy dumped the bags in the kitchen as she walked passed, and then grabbed her jacket and keys off the mantle above the fireplace.  She closed the front door and then quickly walked down the driveway.  Cathy had chosen Mesa, Arizona, because they had never visited the city in their travels, and it was far enough away from Chicago so that they wouldn’t be so easily discovered.  She had rented the house about a month ago.  It had two stories, four bedrooms, and a very spacious backyard.  It was everything she had promised Tim they would have one day.  She had been undecided if she should go back for Tim, but when she had seen this house; she knew Tim belonged here with her.  They were going to live out the life they had always dreamed about.

 

Backing out the driveway in her new truck, Cathy couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.  She had enough money to be able to start a new life.  She had even applied to the local college in order to finish her degree.  The money wouldn’t last forever so she needed a backup plan.  Cathy also knew that there were still hurdles to overcome.  First, there was Shea.  But she figured with the alias she was able to purchase for herself and Tim, they could remain hidden for a long while.  Hopefully long enough to fall off the man’s radar.  Second, there was Gibbs.  With a frown marring her features, Cathy contemplated the problem of Leroy Jethro Gibbs as she pointed the truck towards the freeway that would take her to the airport.   She knew without a doubt he would be a problem.  She tightened her hands on the wheel, and determination coursed through her. 

 

It was time to bring her son home.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Ian O’Shaughnessy shifted uneasily, his discomfort growing by the second.  He placed one hand over his lower stomach, pressing lightly in an attempt to dispel the pain.  The little bastard had really done a number on him.  He was mostly recovered, thanks to time and to the doctor that was on Shea’s payroll.  Unfortunately, according to that same doctor, there was nothing to be done about the lingering pain in his abdomen.  With any luck, it would fade with time, or it could be a lifelong reminder of when a teenager got the jump on him.

 

He should have shot the brat and the agent when he had a chance, but he had been so shocked by how the situation had turned against him that he had run away after hearing the sirens.  Then again, the fact that the kid was still alive may have saved his life as far as Shea was concerned.  Ian had done some awful fast talking in order not to end up in that shallow grave that he had threatened Liam with.  Only after he had sworn that he could find Cathy through Tim had he gotten out of Shea’s office alive.  The irony of becoming the Liam of this situation wasn’t lost on him.  Although hopefully it doesn’t end the same.  Shea had hedged his bets and had other men looking for Cathy using different means but O’Shaughnessy had asked to be assigned to watch Tim.  He knew this was his last chance.  Also, it was a bonus that he was out of Chicago right now because Shea was becoming more and more unstable.  What with the pressure from the F.B.I. and the pressure from within the organization, his boss was becoming paranoid.  Shea had flipped when he learned that Tim’s father was a federal agent.  He became obsessed with the idea that Cathy was going to turn over the journals to Agent Gibbs at the earliest possibility. 

 

So it was O’Shaughnessy’s job to watch Timothy McGee, until his mother showed up.  Shea figured it was just a matter of time.  O’Shaughnessy wasn’t as sure, considering the letter.  He hadn’t told Shea about the letter that Tim had sent his mom or how Cathy hadn’t contacted the kid after.  As far as O’Shaughnessy knew, Cathy could’ve fled the country, and him sitting outside the kid’s junior high was nothing but a fool’s errand.  Plus, he was concerned that eventually one of the agents would catch on to him tailing Tim.  Even though he took precautions by changing his car often, he knew it was only a matter of time. 

 

A flash of red caught his drifting attention.  Tim’s bright red backpack was not hard to spot in the crowd of teenagers.  He watched as Tim climbed aboard the bus that would take him to the library.  Tim would stay there for about an hour, then his grandfather would pick him up and they would go home.  Then O’Shaughnessy would go back to the house he had procured that was situated directly behind Gibbs’ house. 

 

He had set up the second story of that borrowed house with video and audio surveillance.  He knew the moment anyone left the Gibbs house which allowed him to keep tabs on the household.  It had been fortuitous that the two-story had been empty while its owner Erik Manning was on a six month academic sabbatical.  He had moved in and convinced the one noisy neighbor he had met that he was Mr. Manning’s cousin.   With the house being so close, he could keep an eye on Tim, and not be noticed by the seasoned investigators.  Who undoubtedly would if he tried to trail Tim home every day.  Although it was frustrating to follow a kid around day in and day out, O’Shaughnessy knew going back to Chicago empty-handed would be a one way trip for him, so when the bus pulled out into traffic, he waited for two cars to pass before he followed.   

 

 

 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed or left kudo's. They really make my day! Once again thank you to g_love99 for the lovely art!

 

**~NCIS~**

 

“How was your last test?” Gibbs said, putting the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could continue to look for the file he needed. 

 

He smiled at the enthusiasm in Tim’s voice as his son told him all about his last day of school.  Gibbs was hoping that he and Tim could go camping in the month before summer school started back up.  He hadn’t had a chance to take Tim to his favorite camping and fishing spot yet, the one his father had taken him to when he was young.  He wanted to create new memories with his own son.

 

Gibbs finally found the file he was looking for, so he sat down and fully focused on what Tim was saying.  It had been four days since he had seen him face to face.  Their current case involved a admiral’s son who had died making a drug deal.  At first it had seemed like a cut and dried case, but thanks to the doctor’s down at Bethesda it was discovered that although the drug dealer had shot Jason Henderson, the shoulder wound inflicted was survivable.  He had actually died due to arsenic poisoning that had built up in his system which had left him in a weakened state.  So they ended up delving deeper into the familial dysfunction that was the Henderson family.  Apparently, Jason’s stepfather Harry Lewis was planning on being the sole beneficiary of the admiral’s will.  After testing the Admiral Henderson’s blood, it was discovered that she had been poisoned as well.  The levels of arsenic in her blood wasn’t as high as her son but it was high enough to be concerning. 

 

Up until earlier this afternoon, all they had was conjecture, but now that they had Admiral Henderson’s blood test behind them, they had applied for a warrant, and they were just waiting on the judge’s approval. 

 

As Gibbs listened to Tim talking about the movie that Ducky was taking him and Jude to tomorrow, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret.  It was supposed to be him taking the boys to the movies, but with the Henderson case taking up more and more of his time, he knew even if he they managed to arrest Mr. Lewis this evening, the paperwork alone would make sure he would be pulling an all-nighter and working well past time to go to the theater.  So he had called Ducky earlier today and had asked if he could take them.  His friend had been more than willing to take the boys, even had shown some enthusiasm to see the latest superhero movie with them.  Gibbs couldn’t help but think that Jude going to live with Ducky had been a good thing for both of them. 

 

Hearing Tim yawn for the third time, he admonished his son to go to bed and said he would call him tomorrow morning before the trio left for the theater.  After saying goodbye, Gibbs gently placed the receiver in the cradle, once again wondering if he would ever get the balance between work and his home life correct.  Picking up the post it note next to the phone, he saw it was time for his weekly call to Fornell to find out if he had new leads on Shea or Cathy McGee.  They were a constant nagging worry in the back of his head.  He knew the Shea situation wasn’t over, and he was worried Tim would be used as a pawn again to find Cathy.  Then there was Tim’s mother.  She was like a bad penny that was just waiting to turn up and turn Tim’s world upside down again. 

 

Just as his thoughts were circling in on themselves, he saw Tony step off the elevator and hold a white piece of paper above his head.  The warrant.  Gibbs reached for his gun and badge.  “Grab your gear it’s time.”

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Moving his arm as the IV pinched the inside of his elbow, Gibbs shifted uneasily, trying to get comfortable as he waited for time to pass, replaying over and over in his head how he had ended up in Bethesda hospital.  They had been at the Henderson house all of ten minutes and were about to arrest Mr. Lewis when everything had gone to hell.  Admiral Henderson did not take too kindly to learning that her husband was responsible for her son’s death.  She had calmly walked over to her desk, pulled a gun, and point blank shot Mr. Lewis.  Gibbs, who hadn’t believed the Admiral capable of such an act, had been caught off guard.  Then, in the effort to keep her from finishing Mr. Lewis off, Gibbs had stepped in-between the two of them and had caught one bullet to chest and one to his upper arm for his trouble.  Thankfully, he was wearing his vest at the time, or he wouldn’t be here. 

 

Gibbs rubbed his eyes then gave up on even pretending to sleep.  Pushing the button on the side of the bed that slowly raised it, Gibbs gingerly shifted about until he could sit up comfortably.  When he had first arrived, he had tried to argue with the admitting E.R. doctor that he didn’t need to stay overnight, but a very harried Ducky, who had showed up shortly after he had, convinced him that even though the bullet had only gone through the fleshy part of his arm, there was still a risk of infection.  So Gibbs had been promised that his situation would be reevaluated this afternoon but in the meantime he had been hooked up to an IV that would pump him full of antibiotics.

 

The morning sun was just peaking over the horizon when he heard voices out in the hallway that he recognized.  There was a light knock at the closed door before it was pushed open, and Tim and Jackson walked in.  As Tim stood next to his bed, Gibbs could see the distress behind his stoic expression.  His eyes were glassy, as though he was holding back tears, but his face was blank. 

 

“Hey, I’m okay,” Gibbs reassured him.  Tim just nodded and took in a deep, uneven breath.

 

Seeing how tightly his son was trying to hold himself together, Gibbs just said, “Come here.” 

 

Tim sat next to him on the bed and gently wrapped his arms around him.  Gibbs felt a twinge of regret that he had distressed his son.  Gibbs hugged Tim as tightly as he dared and gave a heavy sigh, catching his father’s eye; and he reassured Jackson silently that he was okay.  His father gave a nod and sat heavily down in the hard plastic chair next to the bed.   Gibbs couldn’t help the whisper of worry that went through him when he saw Jackson warily rub his eyes.  His father looked worn out.  Essentially, Jackson had taken care of Tim by himself for almost a week.  It had been a long couple of days for the elderly man ferrying Tim back and forth to school, and getting the early morning phone call that his son had been shot couldn’t have helped matters all that much.  Thanks to how active his father was, sometimes Gibbs forgot Jackson was in his late seventies. 

 

When Tim eased back he looked more settled but Gibbs could tell he was still shaken.  “The doctor’s think that I will be able to leave later today,” he said in a reassuring tone. 

 

“Okay,” Tim said in a rough voice.  “Did the doctor say how long you will be laid up?”

 

“It’ll only be a couple of weeks for the wound in my arm to heal.  But I will probably only be off work for a few days and then be on desk duty.  So don’t worry.  I’ll be fine,” Gibbs said trying to comfort his son but Tim only gave a tight smile, so he assumed the information wasn’t as reassuring as he was hoping. 

 

“Okay,” Tim said. He opened his mouth as though to say more, but then there was a knock at the door. 

 

Seeing the doctor enter with chart in hand, Tim backed up until he was standing next to his grandfather. 

 

“Hey Tim, why don’t we give your father and the doctor a minute and see if there is any good coffee in this place?” Jackson said.

 

The doctor, whose name was Gregson, just shook her head with a grin, and said, “Good luck with that I have worked here for ten years, and I haven’t been able to find a decent cup yet.  Your best bet would be to go to the café across the street, they make the best black coffee. Plus they have sinfully delicious Danishes. If you’re hungry?”

 

“You didn’t have breakfast this morning, did you, Tim?” Jackson said, getting up slowly with a grimace.

 

Tim placing a hand out in case Jackson needed it, but when Jackson got to his feet, he dropped it and, clearly torn about going, looked at Gibbs.  “I haven’t, but…”

 

Gibbs jumped in when Tim’s sentence tapered off. “Go get something to eat.  These things always take time.  Especially with all of the damned paperwork,” Gibbs said before glancing at the doctor.  “No offense.”

 

The doctor gave him a rueful smile and said, “None taken.”

 

Tim nodded, and giving his father a small wave, he followed his grandfather out of the room.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Gibbs was reaching for his shirt when he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink.  He had a bandage on his upper arm that Dr. Gregson said he would need to change once a day but it was the bruise over his heart that made him pause.  The bruise was large and almost black in color.  It was a direct shot.  If he hadn’t been wearing his vest, he would be dead.  Brushing his fingers over the darkest part of the bruise, he allowed himself to think about what this morning would have looked like for his family had the worst happened.  More than likely Vance, Tony, and Ziva would’ve gone to his home and broken the news to Jackson and Tim.  Closing his eyes, Gibbs tried to block out the image of what his father and son would’ve looked like receiving the news of his death.  His father would be shocked but maybe not surprised given his line of work, grief stricken but trying to remain strong for Tim’s sake.  Tim would be devastated but he would try to be stoic.  Whenever his son got emotionally overwhelmed he retreated within himself.  

 

_What would their life look like after?_

 

The house would go to Jackson of course.  Would Jackson stay in Washington or go back to Stillwater?  Gibbs’ death benefits and Jackson’s retirement would go a lot farther in Pennsylvania.  Since Gibbs had received a judgment of full custody, that would pass to Jackson, but what would happen if Jackson became ill or if looking after Tim became too much for the elderly man?  Or what if Cathy showed up and demanded custody, or at the very least made trouble for his two remaining family members? 

 

The bruise had served at least one purpose: It showed him how fragile Tim’s current way of life was.  With Gibbs gone, so many things could go wrong.  He needed someone who would be able to support Jackson and Tim if necessary.  Someone he trusted.  Someone Jackson trusted.  And maybe most importantly, someone Tim would trust and look to when he needed help.  One person immediately came to mind.  That’s if he would be amenable to the suggestion. 

Hearing a knock at the door Gibbs said, “Come in,” as he carefully thread his arm through his sleeve.  When Tony walked through the door, Gibbs couldn’t help but think it was fate. 

 

“Hey boss,” Tony said with a wince when he caught sight of the bruise.  “Vance wanted me to catch you up to speed about the Henderson case, and rather than call, I thought I would come by and see if you or your family needed anything.”

 

Gibbs started buttoning up his shirt as he chewed on his thoughts for a moment. Tony and Tim had been through a very traumatic experience together, and ever since then Tim looked to Tony like he was an uncle or an older brother.  So Gibbs was pretty sure Tim would be able to trust DiNozzo enough to go to him with his worries and problems.  “Actually, Tony I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment.”

 

Tony forehead scrunched a bit in concern. Gibbs only called him by his first name when he wanted his undivided attention.  “Sure boss.”

 

“I wanted to ask you something, and you are under no obligation to say yes.  In fact I want you to think long and hard about it before you give me an answer.  No matter what your answer is it will not affect our relationship, personal or working. Okay?” Gibbs held Tony’s gaze to ensure the younger man understood. 

 

He watched Tony swallow nervously, before he nodded. 

 

“Being shot has made me hyperaware of how fragile life is and especially how fragile Tim’s current way of life is,” Gibbs started off before pausing to gather his thoughts and then coming to stand next to Tony.  “If something happened to me, Jackson and Tim would be alone in this world.  I know the team would try to be there but legally it would just be the two of them.  So I was hoping that you would agree to be Tim’s guardian if anything happened to me, and if Jackson was no longer able to care for my son.  That you would take care of him, guide him into adulthood, and be there for him beyond that.  Also to protect him should his mother ever return and try to get her hooks into him again.”

 

Tony let out a loud breath.  “I don’t know what to say boss.  Are you sure I am the right person?”

 

Gibbs turned towards him fully, placing a hand on his shoulder in a firm grip.  “You have grown so much since I first knew you all those years ago back in Baltimore.  You are kind, wise, loyal, and affectionate.  Plus Tim and I already see you as family.   There is no one I would trust more with Tim than you.”

 

Gibbs paused for a long moment to let what he said sink in before continuing. “I meant it when I said I want you to think about it.  Okay?”

 

Tony nodded and said, “Okay.”  Then he cleared his throat and told Gibbs about what happened to Admiral Henderson after Gibbs had been taken to the hospital.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Tim opened the front door and held it open for his father and grandfather.  His grandfather looked outright exhausted, and Gibbs was walking a bit stiffly.  Tim was worried about the both of them.   His father always seemed like one of the superheroes that he read about in his comics, but being hurt like he had been had shaken Tim’s picture of him as an invincible superman.  So he was determined to take care of him as much as possible. Plus, he wanted to make sure Jackson got some rest as well.  His grandfather had seemed especially worn out this past week.

 

He took his father’s and grandfather’s jackets and hung them up.  Tim could hear Ducky and Jude talking in the living room. 

 

But it was what he spied on Gibbs arm that had Tim rushing over in concern. “Dad your arm!”

 

Gibbs looked down at the growing blood stain on his sleeve. “Damn I hit it on the door when I was getting out of the car.”

 

Ducky ushered him over to the couch.  “Here, Jethro, let me take a look at that.”  Ducky sat on the coffee table and helped Gibbs remove his button down long sleeve shirt and push up the sleeve of his white undershirt. 

 

“The bandage needs to be replaced. You’ve bled through it,” Ducky said in a low tone almost to himself before he looked up and asked Jude, “Can you get my bag from the hall?  I brought it just in case.” 

 

Jude quickly returned placing the black medical bag on the coffee table next to him.  Ducky carefully cut the bandage off revealing a row of stitches that looked bloody but still intact.  “At least you didn’t tear any of the stitches out.”

 

Nausea hit Tim, so he turned away from the sight of his father’s injury as he felt the pastry he ate this morning raise up his chest into his throat.  Quickly but silently, he left heading for his room.

 

He heard, “Jude, can you hand me the roll of gauze …” float up the stairs behind him before he was out of ear shot.  Shutting the door quietly behind him, Tim tried to count to ten, tried to distract himself, but it was already too late.  His heartbeat was out of control, he could hear it in his ears, and he felt a cold sweat break out over his skin.  Next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the bathroom floor next to the toilet doing his best not to puke.  Tim had known his father had been shot, but seeing it for himself had shaken him.  He could’ve lost his dad last night.  The harried phone call yesterday evening would’ve been the last time he talked to his father.

 

As his breathing and heartbeat settled down, Tim felt shame, anger, and despair roll through him.    The despair was because he had been hopeful that he had seen the last of his panic attacks but apparently not.  The shame was a familiar feeling, the anger was because he was supposed to help his father while he was injured, and here he was being his usual useless self, curled up on his bedroom floor rather than downstairs.

 

Tim forced himself to take in a deep breath and slowly let it out.  If he didn’t get back down there, his father would know something was wrong and come looking for him.  His dad didn’t need the added stress of Tim’s anxiety rearing its ugly head.  He was being a burden.  He needed to be helpful.  Pushing himself upwards until he was standing on shaking legs, Tim staggered to the bathroom sink and splashed some water on his face. 

 

Glancing at his reflection, he saw he looked … okay, not great; he was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but hopefully they would chalk it up to him being tired. 

 

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Tim made his way back downstairs.  He rounded the corner and was grateful to see that everyone was still focused on his father.  Ducky was just finishing Gibbs’ dressing, Jude was handing Ducky what he needed, taking it back when the doctor was finished, and placing it back into the medical bag.  Jackson was sitting on the couch and watching the procedure with a concerned look on his face. 

 

He thought he was home free until Gibbs met his gaze, and then he knew at least one person had noticed his absence. 

 

Tim quickly glanced away, saying nervously, “Does anyone want some tea?” as he slowly walked backwards towards the kitchen.

 

Ducky slowly stood up, and said with a happy lilt to his voice, “Yes, please.”

 

Tim swiftly left the room.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

_Two years ago_

 

He was so cold.  The hotel room where they were staying had a heater but it was broken.  His mom and her new boyfriend Liam were out.  Tim was sitting in the dark unable to sleep, but he couldn’t turn on the light because his mom had forbidden it.  Her reasoning was she didn’t want anyone to know he was alone.  Tim was only ten years old, and they would get in trouble if the authorities were called.  He had wrapped himself in every thin, itchy, blanket that there was in the room, but to no avail: He was still shivering.  Tim had found sitting curled up was warmer than lying down, so he was in the chair next to one of the beds when he heard the key turn in the lock. 

 

Looking up in relief, Tim was disappointed when only Liam staggered through the door.  His disappointment turned to worry when the obviously intoxicated man took off his jacket and fell on the bed. 

 

Tim walked over to the door and peeked his head out, looking both ways down the hall.  Not seeing his mother, Tim went over to Liam.

 

Nervously shifting his weight from side to side, Tim finally worked up the courage to ask nervously, “Where’s my mom?”

 

Liam didn’t even move, and in fact he started to snore.  Tim didn’t know the man all that well.  His mom had only been with Liam Thomas for a few months.  What Tim did know didn’t make him want to know him any better.  Liam was a drug user and since he had been with his mom her addiction to drugs had gotten worse.  Plus, when Liam got angry he had no problem smacking his mom around.  So far he had pretty much left Tim alone, but Tim figured it was only a matter of time.

 

His worry for his mom pushed pasted his fear of the violent man.  “Hey!  Where’s my mom?” Tim said loudly, giving Liam’s shoulder a good shake.

 

When Liam sat up abruptly, Tim took a couple steps back, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste.

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Liam shouted at him as he pushed his hair off his face.

 

“My mom.  Where is she?” Tim said, his voice shaking as Liam swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the floor.

 

Liam reached for the cigarette pack on the night stand.  Taking one out, he slowly lit it, squinting at Tim through the smoke.  “How the fuck should I know?  Last I saw of her, she was tripping in an alley down the block.  She didn’t want to come back, so I left.  It is too cold to be hanging around outside.”

 

Tim grabbed his jacket, and put it on quickly.  Then he snagged his backpack. He was determined to go look for his mom.  His hand was on the door handle when he heard Liam say his name.  Tim turned around.  

 

Liam took another slow drag off his cigarette and said with a snarl, “Tim, I have something to say, and I want you to listen real careful.”  He stood and took a couple of steps towards Tim, until he was standing right in front of him, and asked, “Are you listening?

 

Tim nodded, barely able to hear him over his increasingly panicked breathing and pounding heartbeat.  He pressed his back against the door to stay as far away from Liam as possible, but the man kept inching forward, crowding into his personal space.  Unable to meet Liam’s gaze, Tim stared at the carpet.  He was trembling as he realized that at that moment, he was completely at Liam’s mercy.

 

Liam leaned over him until Tim could feel his breath against his ear.  “You ever talk to me like that again, I will beat you within an inch of your life.  Understood?” Liam said, his voice flat emotionless, but full of deadly promise. 

 

“Yes,” Tim whispered as tears gathered in his eyes. 

 

Time seemed to stand still as Liam continued to lean over him; the only sound was Tim’s loud breathing as he started to hyperventilate.  Then Liam let out a harsh laugh, causing Tim’s whole body to jerk in terror.  The man then sauntered over to the bed and sat down.  Liam grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

 

Tim fumbled for the door knob behind him.  He was panicking, and barely able to think.  Finally he was able to turn the handle and jerk open the door.  With his heart racing a mile a minute, Tim escaped into the cold winter night.

 

He had run halfway down the block, before he realized two things: One, Liam was not following him so he could stop running, and two, he had no idea where his mom actually was.   Liam had mentioned an alleyway so Tim started to check the alleys as he passed them.  It was hours past midnight-thankfully the streets were mostly deserted-but it was difficult to see anything as the alleys were in a very run down part of town so there were multiple streetlights out.  Even those lights that worked didn’t reach into the alleys, therefore Tim was forced to check each one.

 

Tim had just decided to turn around and try the other side of the hotel, when he spotted a hand lying on the alleyway ground behind a dumpster.  Tim quickly ran forward and then knelt down next to his mother.  She was pale, her hair was partially covering her face, her eyes were half open, staring at nothing.  She looked dead.  He reached out with a shaking hand, pressed his fingers against her neck, and with a heavy sigh, he sagged in relief when he felt a pulse. 

 

“Mom,” Tim said gently, shaking her shoulder.  When he got no response, he tried again, relieved when she moaned softly before she opened her eyes.

 

“Tim?” she slurred out.

 

“Yeah mom, it’s me,” Tim said with a thankful smile. 

 

The smile fell off his face as her eyes widened, and she made a choking sound.  Tim quickly rolled her over on her side.  Swallowing down his own nausea, Tim pulled back his mother’s long hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the ground.  When she was finished, Tim rolled her back onto her back as she breathed out harshly, her breath fogging up in the cold night air.

 

A shiver racing up his spine, Tim said, “Mom we need to go back to the room.  It’s too cold to be out here.”

 

“Tim?” she said again, confusion in her voice.

 

Tim eyes filled with tears. “Yeah mom, it’s still me.  Please we have to go.”

 

“We can just stay here.  I’m too tired,” she said before she closed her eyes again.

 

“No, we have to go.” Tim paused as he heard raucous laughter and two men talking further down the alleyway.  “It’s not safe.  We have to get back to the room.”

 

“Just give me a minute, please Timothy,” his mother begged, her eyes still shut, her head lulling to one side. 

 

Tim sat there for an indecisive moment but then took in her outfit which was only a short skirt and a tank top with a lightweight jean jacket, and knew his mother needed to get out of the cold.  Especially as Tim was worried that with the drugs she had in her system, she could get really sick or even die before morning came.

 

Grabbing her under her armpits, Tim pulled her up until she was sitting with her back against the alleyway.  She immediately started to slide sideways, but Tim propped himself next to her as he tried to catch his breath.  His mom was tiny in stature, but Tim was still smaller than her, and he would need all his strength just to get her back to the hotel.  But first, he needed her conscious. 

 

Getting back to his feet, Tim squatted down in front of his mom and shook her shoulder this time saying in a firm voice, “Come on, mom, we have to go back.”

 

“Tim …” she said, but then she trailed off, squinting up at him. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to take you home,” Tim said, his voice breaking. “Please … mom, just help me.”

 

“Okay baby,” Cathy slurred, still looking confused as to what Tim wanted from her.

 

Tim pulled lightly on her arm until she got the hint and started to try to push herself upwards.  It took three tries before Tim was able to get his mom on her feet.  When he finally did, she almost immediately fell back over, but he slung her arm around his shoulder, and with him supporting most of her weight, they slowly made their way down the street. 

 

It took them almost a half-hour to shuffle back to their hotel room.  By the time they reached their door, Tim was exhausted.  His mother had been getting heavier the longer they kept walking, and Tim knew that if they fell over, he would not have enough strength to pick his mom back up again. 

 

Finally, they stumbled through the door.  Liam was surprisingly still awake, and the television was blaring loudly.  

 

He briefly glanced at them, a look of disgust on his face, and said, “She smells like puke.  Put her on the other bed.”  Then turning back to the television, he growled out in disgust, “She’s sure as fuck not sleeping with me.”  Then he increased the volume on the television and continued to smoke his cigarette. 

 

Tim was now practically dragging his mom across the room.  When they finally reached the bed Tim tipped her forward and managed to get her on the mattress.  Cathy immediately closed her eyes and passed out.  Tim had never felt so tired, but he knew he couldn’t leave her lying on her back, because if she vomited again, she could choke on it.  So he rolled her onto her side, and placed pillows behind her back to keep her there.  Then he took the wastepaper basket and moved it next to the bed in case she needed it.   

 

Staring down at his mom, Tim felt a wave of nausea wash over him before he bolted to the bathroom as the events of the night caught up to him.  He shut and locked the door, and then turned on the shower to muffle the sound of his uncontrolled sobs as tears ran down his face.  His mind raced back to the brief couple of seconds when he had honestly thought his mother was dead.  He had never been more scared then he had been in that moment.  Tim sat heavily on the floor and slowly rocked himself back and forth, trying to stop crying but unable to.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

_Present_

 

Tim stared out his bedroom window as the sun peeked over the horizon. His journal was on his lap.  He could hear the next door neighbor playing the piano.  Seventy year old Mrs. Diaz would play the piano for a half an hour every morning, rain or shine.  She said she liked to greet the day with music, plus her husband would request a song, and then would sit and listen and break out in applause when she was done.  Her piano was in her living room, and Tim could hear the notes as they drifted up from the open window.

 

Unable to sleep, he had been looking over his old entries and he had been drawn to the entry that he had written over two years ago, when he had almost lost his mom and had a panic attack all in the same night. 

 

His father’s close call with a bullet had thrown him more than he cared to admit.  Tim had known in an abstract way that his father’s job was dangerous and that he could be hurt.  But to actually have it happen had made that abstract idea become frighteningly real. 

 

He took in a deep breath and blew it out.  Tim was also shaken by the panic attack he had had last night.  It had been his first one in six months.  He was disappointed.  Tim wanted his anxiety, Dr. Patterson, and his attacks to be behind him. 

 

Tim stood abruptly, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden.  He needed to take a walk, to be outside.  The house felt too small.  Quickly getting dressed and grabbing his jacket, Tim quietly went downstairs, not wanting to wake his grandfather, who needed his sleep after such a long week.  Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only around six in the morning.  He grabbed an apple from the bowl and a granola bar from the cupboard. Tim stuck the bar in his pocket and took a bite from the apple.  Grabbing a pen from the junk drawer, Tim quickly scrawled a note to his father and grandfather.  

 

Once he finished his note, Tim started to have second thoughts.   Taking off in the early morning had never been a big deal when he had been with his mom.  As long as he was back before they woke up (usually around noon), then he wouldn’t be in trouble. His father though wouldn’t be happy to have him just leave a note and take off, even if he was back before he woke up.  But he really needed to exercise off some of his anxiety.  Tim felt completely strung out right now.

 

“Hey Tim.  What are you doing up?”

 

Turning, Tim felt nothing but relief at seeing his father standing in the kitchen doorway.  He was more than happy to have that decision taken away from him.  “I couldn’t sleep, and so I wanted to take a walk,” Tim said, crumpling up the note in his hand and throwing it away, hoping his dad wouldn’t ask about it. 

 

Gibbs glanced at the clock before whistling softly. “A bit early, isn’t it?”

 

Tim rubbed the back of his neck while avoiding his father’s gaze, not really wanting to get into his reasons.  Finally, Tim just shrugged. 

 

“Give me two minutes to grab my shoes and jacket, and I’ll join you,” Gibbs said.  “Why don’t you leave your grandfather a note telling him where we’ll be?  Wouldn’t want him to worry, would we?” Gibbs said with a wink. 

 

Tim felt the heat rise in his face.  He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at Gibbs’ words, before he picked the pen back up and rewrote the note.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

They walked the three blocks north to their local neighborhood park.  It was a great open area with a rather large play structure on the southwest corner that was butted up against a small bus stop.  The rest of the park was lawn and large old oak and pine trees.  They found themselves alone as they walked through the dew-kissed grass.  Their shoes were getting damp, but neither minded as they enjoyed the peacefulness of the early morning and each other’s company. 

 

Tim would’ve been content to keep the comfortable silence, but he noticed his father almost unconsciously place a hand on his chest.  Feeling guilt well up in him that his dad was out in the cold morning air because Tim couldn’t keep his shit together, he said, “Are you sure you are well enough to be out and about?”

 

Gibbs dropped his hand immediately and said, “My chest is a little sore, but after being cooped up in the hospital and at home, I really needed this walk.  Thanks for letting me tag along.”

 

Tim shrugged. “Sure.”  Then he felt the creeping edge of an uncomfortable conversation entering into their companionable silence. 

 

“So why couldn’t you sleep?”

 

Tim wanted to shrug off the question, but when he took his eyes off the sidewalk, he saw his father’s concern.  “I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to you.”

 

Gibbs’ nodded, “I’m sorry that you were so worried.  You could’ve come and talked to me.”

 

“I know, but you have enough to deal with.  I should be able to handle this on my own.”

 

Gibbs carefully placed an arm around his shoulders. “Family is about being there for each other. You are never a burden.”

 

“Well, maybe I am just tired of being defective,” Tim murmured, under his breath unable to help himself. 

 

“What do you mean by that?” Gibbs asked, stopping and turning towards Tim. 

 

Tim, who had stopped as well, started walking again.  After moment, his father kept pace beside him.  He regretted his words immediately-not the actual words, just that he had said them out loud- so this time, he did shrug, letting the silence lengthen between them. 

 

They were nearing the playground when out of the corner of his eye he saw his father open his mouth as though to speak, and Tim felt a sense of dread steal over him.  Before Gibbs could speak, he was interrupted by a low whine coming from behind the slide.  

 

Tim, who was more than happy to avoid the conversation, jogged towards the sound.  Rounding the slide, he saw a small German Shepherd puppy tied to the lowest rung on the ladder with a rough nylon rope.  Tim kneeled down next to the pup and he was immediately set upon.  The dog overjoyed at the turn of events, started jumping up in excitement and licking his face.  Tim couldn’t help but laugh, and Gibbs even gave a chuckle at the dog’s antics.   Petting the puppy in an effort to get him to settle down, Tim couldn’t help but notice that the rope was starting to cut into the dog’s neck. 

 

“Dad, look …” Tim had to shout a bit as a bus left the bus stop behind them.  He showed his father how tight the rope was.

 

Gibbs looked at the knot on the back of the puppy’s neck before saying, “Keep a hold of him.  I’ll have to cut the rope.”  

 

Tim pulled the puppy onto his lap.  Gibbs grabbed his pocket knife, and he then carefully cut the rope off.

 

“Why would someone just leave him tied up here?” Tim asked, slowly standing whilst trying to keep his arms around a very wiggly puppy. 

 

Gibbs ran a hand over the puppy’s head, and gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears. Before he said, “I honestly don’t know.  Let’s get him home.  If he’s been here overnight, he’s probably cold and dehydrated.”

 

As they started to walk back home, Tim could barely take a couple of steps before the puppy would turn in his arms and lick his face, causing Tim to giggle.

 

Gibbs, smiling widely, said, “He seems like a handful.  Do you want me to carry him?”

 

Tim, mindful of Gibbs’ recent injury, just shook his head, and started wondering how his father felt about dogs.

 

**~NCIS~**

Once home, they were greeted by a sleepy Jackson, who had been woken up by the sound of the puppy barking.  Then, while Tim and Jackson were filling a bowl with water and rummaging through the fridge for something suitable for a dog to eat, Gibbs called Ducky. 

 

Although the MD grumbled that he was not a vet, he did come over with Jude.  Ducky did a quick examination of the dog’s neck, and concluded it would heal in a few days.  Although healthy, the pup did smell up to high heaven, so Jude and Tim had taken the dog upstairs to use Tim’s bath to wash the excitable German Shepherd. 

 

Ducky, Jackson, and Gibbs were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and listening to the shouts and giggles from upstairs as two teens tried to bath a very rambunctious and enthusiastic pup.

 

“If you take the dog to the vet, they can check to see if the little guy is chipped or not.  His owner may be looking for him.  If he wasn’t the one to abandon him, that is,” Ducky said.

 

“I’ll call around sooner rather than later, before Tim gets too attached,” Jackson said, getting up and heading for the living room phone. 

 

Hearing another burst of laughter, Gibbs smiled.  “It may be too late.”  Then the smile slid off his face and his son’s words floated through his mind.

 

Seeing Gibbs sudden change of mood, Ducky asked, “What’s wrong, Jethro?”

 

“Something Tim said.  He was really shaken up by my being shot.  I think he had another panic attack, but he won’t talk to me about it … he called himself defective,” Gibbs said, running one hand through his hair.

 

“Jethro, working through all the ramifications of what Tim has been through is going to take time, even with the help of Dr. Patterson.  You know he has been diagnosised with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and General Anxiety Disorder; both are serious long term conditions.  They can be managed, but they won’t disappear completely, and there will be setbacks,” Ducky said, gently laying a hand on Gibbs’ forearm.   

 

 Sighing, Gibbs patted Ducky’s hand and then stood and poured himself some more coffee, “I guess, I assumed the longer he went without having a panic attack the less likely he would have one.”

 

Sitting back down, Gibbs asked, “How can I help him, though?  How do I get him to talk to me?”

 

“Just be there for him.  You two have grown much closer. I do believe in time, he will talk to you,” Ducky said before taking a sip of tea.

 

Gibbs nodded he knew Ducky was right but he wished he could fix this for his son.  “Thanks, Duck.”

 

Gibbs was about to ask how Jude was doing with his prep for his GED test when he heard a shout of _quick, catch him_ above them. 

 

The sound of a wild chase taking place in the second story had both men rising to their feet just in time to see a wet German Shepherd and two drenched teenagers with towels in their hands stumble down the stairs and into living room.

 

Gibbs and Ducky shared a look before they started laughing and joined in the chase. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving all the kudos and reviews. They inspire me to keep writing!

_Two weeks later_

_Saturday_

 

Arthur pulled at his lead eagerly, before stopping to smell an interesting group of weeds. Tim laughed when the puppy sneezed, shook his head, and then kept walking.  According to the vet, the German Shepherd was around six months old and had no microchip.  Thankfully, his father had said that they could keep the little guy.  Tim had named the pup Arthur after King Arthur, one of his favorite characters.  The last couple of weeks had been quite the adjustment period for the four of them.  Gibbs and Tim had even built a dog house for Arthur to sleep in. 

 

That had been the plan anyway, but when they had put Arthur in the backyard that first night, the dog had barked and yelped up a storm until they had relented and let the puppy inside in order to keep in good standing with their neighbors.  Arthur had slept at the foot of Tim’s bed that night and every night since.  During the day, when Tim was at summer school, Arthur was more than happy to run around outside, though; it was just at night that the dog insisted on sleeping in the house. Not that Tim was complaining.  Truth be told, since the puppy started sleeping in his room, he had only had one nightmare.  And when he had woken up with his heart pounding and his hands shaking, Arthur had been there, licking the tears off his face.  Tim had petted the little fur ball until he had calmed down and was able to go back to sleep. 

 

It was a sunny July day, without a cloud in the sky, and Tim was taking Arthur for his daily walk.  Summer school had started this week; Tim would be dropped off by his grandfather at school around eight in the morning and then be picked up around one.  He would eat lunch, and then take Arthur for his walk.  The pup loved going for their afternoon strolls, Tim only had to touch Arthur’s leash and the pup would start barking and running back and forth from wherever Tim was to the front door. 

 

Jackson always stayed at home.  Arthur liked to take very long walks and it was usually too much for his grandfather to walk that distance.  His father had said he could take Arthur to the park, as long as he came right back.  The park was only a few blocks away, so round trip, including letting Arthur sniff every tree and frolic in the park, it took about forty-five minutes. 

 

They were just passing the covered bus stop at the far end of the park when a voice called out to him. “Tim.”

 

Tim turned and then stopped with a gasp.  Everything around him went silent and his focus narrowed to the slight woman standing under the overhang. 

 

“Mom,” Tim whispered.

 

“Hey Timmy.  How are you?”  Cathy said walking forwards, stopping just in front of him. 

 

“I’m … I’m okay,” Tim said his voice breaking.  He stepped forward and his mom wrapped him in a hug. 

 

Tim held his mother tightly for a long moment then took a step back, but kept a hold of her hands.  “I can’t believe you’re here.”

 

His mom led him to the bench and they both sat down, Arthur laid down next to Tim’s feet and started chewing on his leash. Tim just stared at his mother for a solid minute, and took in how good she looked.  She had gained some much needed weight.  Her blond hair was longer, it was also clean and styled.  She wore a long skirt and a short sleeve shirt that were obviously new and looked expensive.  Tim hadn’t seen his mom this healthy in a long time.  Finally, he said, “How are you?”

 

“I’ve been fine,” Cathy said with a bright smile, reaching over and tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.  “I like your hair.  You’ve grown it out.”

 

Tim nodded and then swallowed hard before asking, “Where have you been all this time?”

 

Cathy’s face fell just a bit and then she said, “Oh, Tim, I needed to get better before I came back.  You can understand that, can’t you?”

 

Tim nodded.  He did understand … in a way, but … it didn’t take away the hurt.  He wanted to ask how she could’ve left him in that hotel room, but he was afraid of the answer.  Afraid he was the reason.  Afraid of making her mad.  Afraid of her leaving again.  

 

The silence lengthened between them, and finally, Cathy said, “I’ve been clean for almost six months.”  She turned her arm up, and Tim could see that all of her old track marks had healed and there were no new ones. 

 

Tim’s smile widened.  Six months was the longest his mom had gone without using in years, and reaching over, he gave her another hug and then said in a tear-soaked voice, “Wow, that’s so great, mom.” 

 

Her smile was as big as his when they drew back, and she said, “I wish I could take all the credit, but I checked myself into one of those really nice rehab clinics.  They gave me the tools I needed to stay clean, once I was out.”

 

“That’s good, mom, but … where did you go after that?” Tim asked, once again dancing around the answers he really wanted to know.  _Why did you leave me there?  Why did it take you so long to come back?_

 

Cathy’s face lit up, and she said, “As soon as I left rehab, I wanted to get as far away as I could from my old life, and I ended up in Arizona.  Oh Tim, you should see the house I rented us.  It is lovelier then anything we have ever lived in.”

 

Tim had flinched a bit, when his mother had said she wanted to get far away from her old life, but she didn’t seem to notice as she talked about her new life in Phoenix.  When she continued to describe the house in detail, Tim slowly realized she expected him to come live with her in Arizona. 

 

“We won’t have to worry about money for a short time, so I was thinking about going back to school.  I always wanted to finish my degree, and now I can.  And Tim, I have already checked out the schools, they are so nice, you will love them and…”

 

“Mom, wait, I can’t go with you,” Tim interrupted her speech.

 

Her face immediately clouded over. “What do you mean? Of course you are coming with me.  I’m your mother.” She started to look upset, but then she smiled in relief.  “Oh you’re scared that I am going to take Liam back.”  His mom reached up and laid her hand against the side of his face and said softly, “Don’t worry, baby, I’m done with him and men like him. It’s just going to be you and me from now on.”

 

Tim felt shock roll over him when he realized his mother didn’t know about Liam.  “Mom, Liam …” Tim stopped and had to clear his throat, trying desperately not to think about the last time he saw his mother’s boyfriend.  Liam’s empty eyes open, staring at nothing, a bullet hole in his forehead.  “Liam died,” Tim said baldly. 

 

Cathy jerked back, sitting up straighter, all the color running out of her face.  “How … how do you know?”

 

“I was there.  They were looking for you and thought I would know where you were,” Tim said and then gave her a truncated version of what had happened.

 

“They know about the money.  They know I have it,” Cathy whispered in shock.  “We have to go.  They could still be watching you,” she said, standing up and looking around frantically. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep you safe.” 

 

She reached for his hand but Tim stood up abruptly, almost tripping over Arthur and causing the puppy to give a low whine.  “I can’t go with you; I have to stay here with my dad and my grandfather.  I can’t just leave them.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?  You think they love you more than me? I am trying to save your life.  I came all the way back here just for you.  Do you know how much time and money I have spent just to get here?  You need to come with me,” Cathy said her voice rising with each sentence. 

 

Tim took a step backwards. “I know you love me mom but I can’t just leave.  I want to stay.  I have a new life here.  You could stay here in D.C.  Gibbs would help you.  He could …”

 

His mother took a step forward her face now flushed with color as she lost her temper and interrupted him. “I can’t stay here; I want to go to Arizona.  After everything I’ve done for you.  After everything I sacrificed.  I raised you for the first twelve years of your life, and this is how you repay me?  You’ve only been with your father for six months.  Where is your loyalty?  If you truly love me, you will come with me now.”

 

Tim felt sick at her words.  Trying to placate her, he placed a hand on her arm.  “Mom, I do love you, but I can’t just leave.  Please come with me and let Gibbs help you.”

 

Cathy turned the tables, and with a twist of her arm gripped his forearm tightly. “Help me? Are you kidding me right now?  He wouldn’t help me with anything other than a jail sentence.”

 

The grip on his arm tightened until it felt like a vice, and Tim said, “He would help you … Mom you’re hurting me …”

 

If anything his words caused her to tighten her grip until Tim felt her nails bite into his forearm.  “Why are you always making everything so difficult?  God damn it, you are such a pain in the ass sometimes.  How about you make my life easier just for once?  How can you treat me like this after everything I’ve done?”

 

Tim felt his heart break due to her words.  He wasn’t trying to make his mom’s life harder.   _And isn’t his mom coming back what he had prayed for the last six months?_    His mom finally drug free, with a home to live in, and a place for Tim to go to school, and for them to have a good life together was everything he had wished for growing up. 

 

Even as those thoughts raced through his head, Tim realized something: He had changed in the six months since she had abandoned him at that motel, and what had once been his fondest wish was now paled in the face of what he had.  He still loved his mom, and wanted her to be a part of his life, but he wouldn’t throw away his father and the family they had in order to have that. 

 

With guilt rolling through him, Tim squared his shoulders and said, “I’m sorry, mom.”  He couldn’t help but wince as her face twisted into an angry mask and her nails dug further into his skin.

 

“I am your mother.  You will come with me,” she said in a voice that had Tim’s anxiety skyrocketing.  He only ever heard her use that tone of voice a couple of times in his life and only when she wanted instant obedience.  When she started pulling him towards her car, Tim realized she meant to make him go with her whether he wanted to or not. 

 

Tim heard the rumble of a bus as it pulled abreast of the curb behind them, and he knew he had to get away from her as quickly as possible.  Although small in stature, she was still stronger than him.  Tim knew he would never be able to physically hurt her even if it meant he could escape, so his options were limited. 

 

Just as he heard the bus doors open, Tim yanked his arm away causing her grip to loosen and her nails to scrape down his forearm, leaving bloody scratches behind.  Scooping up Arthur, Tim ran to the bus and hopped on; digging into his pocket with his free hand for the loose change he had on him. He dropped the coins in the slot and took the first seat.

 

“Tim, wait!”  His mother shouted as she climbed on the bus.  She looked distraught.

 

“Hey, lady, on or off, I have to keep a schedule,” the elderly bus driver said, annoyance in every word. 

 

Cathy pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and pressed it into Tim’s hand. “This isn’t how I saw this going.  I’m sorry.  Call me please.”  Then she hopped off the bus, and just stood there on the sidewalk as it pulled away. 

 

Tim opened his hand and saw that written in blue ink was a phone number.  Taking in a shaky breath, Tim tried to hold onto the squirming puppy as he shoved the paper into his pocket.  He hoped that wouldn’t be the last time he saw his mother, but he was afraid it might be.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

At times Ian O’Shaughnessy felt that if he didn’t have bad luck, he wouldn’t have any luck at all.

 

Take this morning for example.  Dr. Manning had returned unexpectedly from his sabbatical and so, O’Shaughnessy had to take care of him.  Then he hadn’t even had time to get rid of the body, so he would have to dump it later, for now it was wrapped up in the cool of the basement.  Hopefully, he got a chance to move it soon.  Otherwise it would start to stink up to high heaven.  Then this afternoon, just as Tim McGee was going for his walk with his newly adopted fleabag, O’Shaughnessy’s car refused to start for the second day in a row.  It had broken down yesterday and Ian thought he had fixed the problem after changing the battery.  He couldn’t fail two days in a row.  He had fiddled with it for about a half an hour, before giving it up for a lost cause.  That was when he glanced down at his watch and realized that it had been forty-five minutes since Tim had left.  He should’ve been back by now.

 

Fear had crawled up his spine as he half-jogged half-ran towards the park.  He got there just in time to see a slight woman fitting Cathy McGee’s description get into a red sedan and drive away.  When she drove past him, he almost pulled his gun and took his chances on hitting her from this distance, but then he realized she might not have the journals on her, and getting those back was the only thing that would satisfy his boss.  Even as fast as she was going, he could tell she was alone in the car.  So wherever Tim was, he wasn’t with his mom.  They still had that advantage.

 

As he walked back to his rental house, O’Shaughnessy felt the weight of his cell phone in his pocket.  He needed to give Shea a call, but he knew the man would not be happy.  As he stood in his driveway, he thought briefly about making a run for it, packing up his stuff and leaving, and just hoping that Shea never caught up with him.  Then he remembered Shea’s last phone call to him and how his boss had specifically asked how his mother and sister were doing.  The man didn’t really care, but Shea had been sending a message, and Ian had heard it loud and clear.  Even though the hit man was no longer in Chicago, his mother and his sister were, and they were the leverage that Shea used to keep Ian loyal. 

 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.  “Hey, it’s me.  I need to speak with the boss…”

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Tim shifted nervously, glad that Arthur had settled down on the floor next to him and had fallen asleep.  The bus was mostly empty with only a few people scattered throughout.  The bus driver kept looking back at him through the rear-view mirror.  Tim tried to ignore the almost constant surveillance, and instead he squinted at the small bus route that was displayed at the front.  He needed to get off this bus and find a way to call his grandfather.  Tim should’ve been home by now; Jackson would be worried, and the last thing the elderly man needed was to run around the neighborhood looking for him.  Tim couldn’t help but feel ashamed that once again his past was putting his new family in danger. 

 

When the bus driver cleared his throat, Tim grimaced, not looking forward to whatever the man had to say to him. 

 

“We usually don’t allow non-service animals on the bus.”

 

Tim slunk down further in his seat in embarrassment and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m going to let it go this time because it looked like you were in some trouble.  Do you know where you are going?” the older man said.  “I could call the police if you need me to?”

 

That made Tim sit up straight. “No, no, I’m fine.  My friend lives near stop ten.”  He didn’t want the police involved, not with his mother back in town. 

 

That seemed to settle the driver’s curiosity, and he asked Tim no more questions.  Thanks to the map, Tim saw that this bus’s route went within a few blocks of Ducky’s house.  He would go there and call his grandfather. 

 

Twenty long minutes later, Tim was emotionally and physically exhausted.  Due to the fact he was carrying a still sleeping Arthur, his arms hurt as he walked up onto to Ducky’s porch.  Knocking on the door, Tim was just hoping that the MD and Jude were home; otherwise he didn’t know what he would do next.

 

The relief he felt as Jude opened the door had tears coming to Tim’s eyes just at the sight of his friend.  

 

“Kid, are you okay? What are you doing here?” a very confused Jude asked as he ushered him inside.

 

Arthur, waking up upon hearing Jude’s voice, started struggling in Tim’s arms.  Unclipping his leash from his collar, Tim lowered the pup to the floor, and asked, “Can I get him a bowl of water? I also really need to use your phone to call my grandfather.  He’s going to be so worried about me.”

 

“Yeah sure.  You know where the phone is.  I’ll get Arthur some water,” Jude said, giving Tim a quick hug and then calling for Arthur as he walked into the kitchen.  The pup followed very enthusiastically.

 

Tim, with what felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders, went into the living room, and picked up the phone and called his grandfather.

 

 

**~NCIS~**

Jude set the bowl of water on the floor, gave Arthur a quick pat on the head, and then worried about Tim, headed towards the living room.  He had looked in rough shape, scared and anxious in a way Jude hadn’t seen him in awhile.  Both of them had been making progress thanks to Dr. Patterson, and the fact that they had more stable home lives, but as he watched Tim pace back and forth he couldn’t help but think his friend seemed just as twitchy as when he had seen Tim sitting on the bench outside the library, all those months ago. 

 

“What did your grandfather say?”

 

Tim stopped pacing and said, “He’s coming over after he calls my father.”

 

“You’re hurt,” Jude exclaimed as he rushed over and gently grabbed a hold of Tim’s injured arm. 

 

“It’s just a couple of scratches,” Tim stated, with a distracted shrug.

 

“Kid, you’re bleeding. Not only that if those scratches aren’t cleaned out, they could get infected,” Jude said, gently laying his arm around his friend’s shoulder, and led him towards the kitchen.

 

Clearing off the kitchen table that served as his desk, Jude pulled out a chair for Tim and then went to the hall closet and got the first aid kit, which the Doc kept fully stocked.  Sitting down, Jude drew Tim’s arm towards him.  Giving a low whistle, Jude set to work cleaning the wounds and the dried blood off the skin.  Tim winced a bit when Jude used some antiseptic but other than that, he was unusually quiet.  His friend could definitely be on the silent side, but around Jude, the kid could be a chatterbox. 

 

So when he finally spoke, Jude was relieved. “You’re good at this.”

 

It was Jude’s turn to shrug. “Growing up a lot of times we couldn’t afford a doctor, unless it was downright serious, and then we would go to the local clinic.  Medical stuff interests me.  Always has, every since I was little, so I would pay attention to the nurses and doctors that helped us.  I also tried to read everything I could on first aid and the like.  Before …” Jude trailed off, trying not to think about why he stopped going to school. 

 

“Have you ever thought of becoming a doctor or a nurse?” Tim asked quietly.

 

“Nurse actually,” Jude said a bit defensively.  He had been given crap about that from his old school friends, as they didn’t see it as being manly enough.

 

Tim smiled for the first time since he arrived. “That’s cool.  Have you talked to Ducky about it?  I bet he could steer you in the right direction.”

 

Jude grimaced. “I gave that dream up a long time ago.  To be a nurse, I would need a degree.  Degree’s cost money and I am not about to ask Ducky for it.  If I mention that I want to be a nurse, Ducky, being the generous person he is, is going to offer to help.  I don’t want to take advantage of him.  He has done too much for me.”

 

“Jude …” Tim started but then stopped when Jude shook his head.  He knew what Tim was going to say but his mind was made up.  Tim didn’t understand.  Tim was Gibbs’ son, so of course Gibbs and Tim’s relationship was different than his and Ducky’s.  What was he to Ducky?  Ducky was Jude’s guardian until Jude was eighteen.  That’s it.

 

He sat back and, changing the subject, said, “That’s about all I can do.  They are not very deep but they must hurt.”

 

 “Thanks.” Tim gave Jude a half grin and drew back his arm.

 

As he started to put the medical supplies back in the first-aid kit, Jude finally asked what he’s wanted to know since Tim had shown up. “What happened?”

 

His friend shifted nervously, looked away; he seemed like he didn’t want to answer.  When Tim’s eyes finally drifted back, Jude caught his gaze and held it. 

 

“I saw my mom today,” said Tim with disbelief in his voice.

 

Jude felt something tighten in his chest.  Tim’s mom was trouble, but at the same time Jude knew how desperately Tim wanted to see her.  Jude glanced down at Tim’s arm, and then looked back up and asked, “Did she do that?” 

 

Tim quickly moved his arm hiding it in his lap, and before his friend even spoke, Jude knew the answer. 

 

“She didn’t mean to.  She was scared. I told her about Liam and how I was almost killed.  She was worried that I was still being watched, so she wanted me to go with her,” Tim said defensively. 

 

Jude wanted to argue that with Tim, but he knew he needed to give the kid space.  He said, “It’s a long walk from the bus station.  Are you thirsty?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Tim said gratefully. 

 

When Jude returned with a glass of water, Tim took a long drink.  Jude watched him fiddle with the glass, and he waited.  A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded. 

 

“Even before she found out about Liam, my mom wanted me to go live with her.  She has a house and a whole life planned just waiting for us,” Tim said as he reached down and picked Arthur up.  The pup had been exploring the kitchen and living room and had finally returned to chew on Tim’s shoelaces.  Tim picked up Arthur and gave the pup a snuggle avoiding Jude’s gaze.

 

“Did you want to go?” Jude asked softly, trying to keep his opinion about Cathy’s offer out of his voice.

 

Tim gently stroked the top of Arthur’s head a couple of times and then he answered, “Before she left me, having my mom clean and sober, a home of our own, and a life with just the two of us was all I wanted.”

 

“And now?”

 

Tim finally looked up and met Jude’s eyes. “I’ve changed.  Now I have my father and grandfather and a life here.  I have you and Ducky, Tony and the rest of the team.  I have a family.  I can’t just up and leave that all behind.  But at the same time …” Tim stopped and continued to pet Arthur.

 

“But at the same time you feel guilty,” Jude finished for him.

 

“I do.  I have you guys.  Who does she have?  No one,” Tim said despondently.

 

“Tim, you are not responsible for her.  She made her own choices and she continues to do so,” Jude said gently, not wanting to make Tim defensive but wanting him to see that his mother was just reaping the consequences to her own decisions.

 

Tim squirmed a bit, but then conceded Jude’s point.  “I know that.  I do.  But she came all the way back to D.C. for me.  Plus I just feel I owe her.”

 

Jude knew he wasn’t going to convince Tim.  Just hearing him concede that his mother had some part to play in her problems was more than the kid would’ve admitted just six months ago. 

 

Hearing a familiar rumble outside that let them know Jackson had arrived, both Tim and Jude stood up and went to let him in. 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Walking into the bullpen and taking a seat at his desk, Gibbs looked over at Tony and Ziva to see them hard at work on the various cold cases that they had been assigned.  They had just finished a case earlier in the week, and now they were keeping busy with older files.  Gibbs picked up his coffee, and his shoulder gave a twinge, but other than that subtle reminder his wound was healing up nicely.  His family had settled back into their normal rhythm, although adding a four-legged member had been a bit of an adjustment, but Gibbs thought the pup was good for Tim.  Arthur was a constant companion for his son; the dog was always at Tim’s heels.  Gibbs knew Tim didn’t have any real friends at school.  Although Tim now had Jude as a friend and they talked on the phone whenever they could, but Jude was often busy studying for his GED.  So having someone to, talk to even if that someone wasn’t able to talk back, was good for his son.

 

Gibbs was just reaching for his desk phone when his cell phone rang, and he wondered if their time working cold cases was over. 

 

Seeing his father’s name pop up on the caller ID had Gibbs’ gut going into overdrive. 

 

“Hey Dad, what’s wrong?” Gibbs asked in lieu of saying hello.  What Gibbs heard next had him standing and grabbing his coat. 

 

“What!” he exclaimed causing both Tony and Ziva to whip their head around and stand up, concern on their faces.  “Where is he now?  Meet me there. We’ll figure out what to do next.  Be careful.  We don’t know who else has cottoned onto the fact that Cathy’s back in town.”

 

Gibbs hung up his phone then, walking towards the elevator, said, “Tony, Ziva, tell the director I am taking the rest of the day.”

 

“Boss, wait,” Tony said, jogging towards his boss, he and Ziva slipping on just as the elevator just as the doors closed. 

 

Gibbs pushed the lit ground floor button again, knowing it wouldn’t get the elevator down any faster, but he couldn’t help it. 

 

“Boss, what’s going on?  Cathy McGee is back?” Tony questioned, a look of concern on his face.

 

“According to my father, she approached Tim when he was out for a walk with Arthur.  He hopped on a bus to get away from her and ended up at Ducky’s.  I’m going there now.  See if you can pull up any footage from the park.  Maybe we’ll get lucky and we will get a license plate.   I know they have recently put cameras in as the play structure kept getting vandalized.”

 

“Of course,” Ziva said, pulling out her notebook and writing down the pertinent info. 

 

“Sure boss,” Tony answered automatically before asking, “Is Tim okay?  Maybe I should go with you, in case any of Shea’s men show up.”

 

The elevator arrived, and Gibbs exited as soon as the doors opened.  Gibbs considering Tony’s question, flashed back on how close both Tim and Tony had come to being killed thanks to an unexpected ambush.  So he nodded to Tony.  “Grab Ducky on your way out.  It’s one of his days to be in autopsy.  He’ll want to be there as well.”

 

“Ziva…”

 

Ziva interrupted and said, “I will stay here and get started on finding any footage from the park and start searching local hotels for a woman matching Ms. McGee’s description.”

 

Gibbs nodded his thanks and the three parted ways in the lobby.

 

 


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying the story. Here is the next chapter!

Gibbs checked the backdoor again, making sure the newly installed motion sensor lights were set for the backyard.  Walking quietly down the hall, Gibbs stopped briefly in the doorway of the living room.  Tim and Jude had lain down in their sleeping bags about an hour ago in their sleeping bags, which were set up on the living room floor. They were both now fast asleep, comics strewn between them.  Arthur, who was lying next to a slumbering Tim, picked his head up briefly before he yawned, stretched, and laid his head back down next to his owner. 

 

It was now well past eleven o’clock.  When Tim had brought his blanket and pillow down to the living room with extras for Jude, Gibbs had realized that his son didn’t want to be alone, and that made his heart ache just a bit, so he had retrieved the sleeping bags from the garage and set them up in the living room where Gibbs she could keep an eye on them. 

 

Standing there watching his son sleep peacefully, Gibbs couldn’t help the anger that rose up inside of him.  Tim deserved to feel safe.  He deserved to be able to take a walk with his dog and not be accosted by his past.  “Damn it Cathy.  What were you thinking?” Gibbs whispered to himself as he walked into the living room.  Tim had somehow ended up with most of his sleeping bag underneath him, so Gibbs pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over his son.  He patted Arthur on the on head before quietly leaving the room. 

 

Hearing footsteps on the porch, Gibbs detoured to the front door to let Ziva in.  She had called with good news that there had been footage of Cathy leaving the park.  After taking her coat, Gibbs ushered her into the kitchen where Tony, Ducky, and Jackson were waiting.  

 

Accepting a cup of coffee from his father, Gibbs sat down at the kitchen table.  He took a sip of the almost too hot beverage, while he waited for Ziva to set up the tablet.  When he had arrived at Ducky’s house, outwardly, he had appeared calm, but inside, he had been an intense mix of emotions.  As soon as he had gotten inside the door, Tim had run up to him and had given him a desperate hug; which Gibbs had returned just as fiercely.   

 

He had listened as Tim had told his version of events in which he called the scratches on his arms an accident.  Once again, Gibbs was sure Tim was trying to protect his mom, by downplaying what happened.  When Tim had gotten to the part of the story where his mom had tried to take him away, Gibbs had adopted a blank expression because inside all he felt was rage, and he didn’t want Tim to think he was angry with him.  Tim hadn’t done anything wrong.   This was Cathy’s fault.  First, Cathy puts their son in danger by abandoning him, then put him in further jeopardy by stealing money from the mob, and then to top it all off she tried to just walk back into his life and take him away.  

 

“Ms. McGee shows up at one-fifteen, driving a red sedan,” Ziva said, breaking through Gibbs’ musings and pointing at the grainy black and white footage on the tablet.  “Unfortunately, the cameras pointed towards the park are very low quality, and even with enhancements, her license plate is unreadable, but we are checking with local rental offices to see if anyone matching her description has rented a vehicle.”

 

Gibbs watched intently as Cathy parked her car across the street from the bus stop, got out and sat on the bench underneath the awning.  A few minutes later, Tim and the puppy walked into view before stopping abruptly in front of the bus stop.  The awning blocked the view, but a few minutes later, the bus pulled up, and Gibbs saw Tim board, followed by Cathy who then got back off. 

 

Cathy stood on the sidewalk for several minutes with her arms crossed before she turned and got back into her car.  Gibbs sat back in disappointment; there wasn’t anything there that they hadn’t already heard from Tim.

 

“Wait,” Ziva said, fast forwarding a couple of minutes, and they watched Cathy sit in her car until she finally drove away.  “There is more.”  

 

Gibbs leaned forward, watching as a large man jogged into frame and then stood stock still, watching Cathy’s vehicle as it passed.  The man waited there for a moment before he turned and walked back the way he came.

 

Rewinding it and pointing at the screen, Ziva said, “See how he reaches behind him and under his jacket.  Those movements made me suspicious, so I had the techs down in cyber compare this image to all of Shea’s known associates.”

 

Ziva paused and with a few taps on the tablet’s screen brought up another picture.  “We believe this man is Ian O’Shaughnessy.  An alleged hit man, he’s been with the family for over fifteen years.  I made a quick call to Fornell, and he confirmed that O’Shaughnessy was on their short list of suspects for the man who shot Liam and attacked Tim and Tony.”

 

Gibbs squinted at the blurry image in comparison to the booking photo next to it, and was amazed at what computer geeks could do with such grainy pictures.  “Tony, does he look familiar?”

 

Now it was Tony’s turn to squint at the screen. “Boss, the man had a ski mask on the whole time, and I was knocked silly before I even saw that.  I am mostly relying on Tim’s memory of that day.” 

 

A voice from behind them said, “He seems like he might be the same height, and the eye color is the same, but I’m not sure.”

 

Gibbs turned around and, seeing Tim standing in the doorway, stood up. “Is everything ok?”

 

“Yeah, I was thirsty and wanted to get some water.  I was wondering if I could talk to you a minute?” Tim asked in a low nervous voice.

 

Seeing Tim take a fleeting glance behind him, Gibbs looked back over his shoulder and saw Tony, Ziva, Jackson, and Ducky watching them.  “We’ll be right back.”

 

Looping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, Gibbs guided his son past the living room where Jude and Arthur were still sleeping and down into the basement.  Gibbs flicked on the overhead light, and sat Tim in one of the chairs and then sat in another one across from him.

 

Although they had spoken briefly this afternoon, it had taken on more the air of a debriefing than of real talk.  At the time, Gibbs had wanted to have all the information of what had happened as quickly as possible in order to not let Cathy’s trail grow cold, but now seeing Tim’s face downcast while he traced one of the scratches that ran down his arm, Gibbs knew he should’ve taken more time to make sure his son was okay.

 

He cleared his throat to grab Tim’s attention.  When his son looked up, he asked, “How are you doing?”

 

Tim sat up straighter, squared his shoulders, and said in a voice a bit too casual, “Fine.”

 

Gibbs pursed his lips in frustration.  He could see by the haunted look in Tim’s eyes he was anything but fine.  His son had been through a lot in the past year, but he couldn’t force him to confide in him if he did not wish to. Seeing how stiffly Tim was holding himself, Gibbs thought that maybe Tim was barely holding it together.   So Gibbs tried a different tactic, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

 

Tim looked more than a little relieved at the change in subject, and he said, “I was getting a drink of water and then I remembered something that I forgot to tell you earlier.”  Tim stood and withdrew a piece of paper out of his pocket.  He hesitated for a moment before he handed it to Gibbs.

 

With his concern growing, Gibbs opened the paper and saw it was a phone number.  He wanted to sprint upstairs and have Tony and Ziva immediately run the number and try to get a hit, but then he saw that Tim was looking everywhere but at him. He had tears in his eyes.  “Hey.  Come here,” Gibbs said, standing and opening his arms.  Tim stepped into the hug with a hitch to his breath. 

 

Tim held onto him almost desperately, his face buried in his chest, but Gibbs still heard him ask, “Are you going to arrest her?”

 

Gibbs tightened his arms around his son for a moment, before he drew back looked him in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to find her and talk to her.  She is in danger.  The Shea family will not stop looking for her or their money, and as long as they are looking for your mom, both of you are in danger.”  Placing one hand against the side of Tim’s face, Gibbs added, with a hitch in his voice, “I will do everything I can to keep you safe.  Can you understand that?”

 

Tim stared at him for a long moment before he nodded and gave him a weak smile.  Gibbs gathered him in for another hug and, kissing the top of his son’s head he said, “I love you.”

 

When he heard a whispered _I love you_ back, some of the weight that had settled on Gibbs chest when he had first heard Cathy was back seemed to lift.  No matter what happened with Cathy, Gibbs knew that the two of them were going to be okay.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Tony was trying to act nonchalant as he lingered in the hallway waiting for Gibbs and Tim to come back.  He was worried.  This whole situation could blow up in spectacular and very painful ways.  Not only was the Shea family back in town, but Cathy showing up out of the blue was just plain awful.  Tony couldn’t help but run a hand through his hair his fingers passing over the scar he still carried from his last encounter with Shea’s hitman whose name apparently was O’Shaughnessy. 

 

On one hand, maybe this could finally bring Tim some closure with his mother, but on the other, Cathy McGee had all but painted a bullseye on Tim’s back.  Until she and the Shea family were dealt with, Tim would continue to be in danger.  Tony thought of Tim, Gibbs, Jackson, and the rest of the NCIS team as his family.  Tony barely had any relations to speak of, and his father only seemed to notice Tony when he needed something.  And it was true, he had been a bit taken aback by Gibbs asking him to be Tim’s guardian, should anything ever happen to the older man.  To be trusted with such a responsibility had at first terrified him, but then he thought it over, and when he realized that they were already a family, it had settled something in Tony.  He loved them.  That was something that still had the power to surprise and humble him.   He had also realized they loved him as well.  This was his family and he would protect it. 

 

Finally, the basement door opened, and Gibbs and Tim walked out into the hallway.  Tim’s face looked splotchy, so Tony knew there had been tears.  “Hey, Tim.”

 

Tim gave him a wobbly smile, but whatever he and Gibbs had talked about must have ended okay because Tim looked a lot less sad than he had earlier today.  Tim gave Tony a quick hug, which Tony returned before ruffling the teen’s hair, causing an indignant yet good natured, “Hey!” from Tim. 

 

Tim walked back into the living room and got into his sleeping bag.  He managed not to disturb a still sleeping Arthur, but Jude had woken up in the interim, and the two started talking quietly.  Tony was glad that Tim and Jude had each other to rely on.  It was hard growing up the way they had, and having someone who understood that to talk to was good for them.  Made him wish he’d had had a friend like that when he was a teen. 

 

“Hey Tony, were you waiting for me?” Gibbs asked, stopping just before they reached the kitchen.  Tony could hear Ziva, and Ducky talking quietly.  Jackson had retreated to his room to read but made them promise to come get him, should they hit upon anything new. 

 

“Yeah boss this might not be the best time for this, but I wanted to say I have thought about it and I want to be Tim’s guardian.  You guys are my family,” Tony said, his words falling out of his mouth in a rush as he tried to convey his sincerity. 

 

A look of relief passed over Gibbs’ face, before he surprised Tony by pulling him in for a hug.  In shock, Tony stood stock still for a brief moment before he returned it. 

 

When Gibbs pulled away, he said in a quiet voice, “Thank you, Tony.  Let’s go talk to the others I have some new information about Cathy that will hopefully lead us right to her.”

 

**~NCIS~**

_2:00am_

 

O’Shaughnessy woke to the sound of the door bell being leaned on, hard.  “All right … All right … I’m coming,” He shouted groggily, as he staggered downstairs and to the front door.  He hadn’t gotten any real sleep since he started watching the Gibbs’ residence so he found himself dropping off unexpectedly, especially once everyone in the house across the way gone to bed. 

 

Without looking through the peephole, O’Shaughnessy ripped open the door with a loud, “What?”

 

He felt the blood drain from his face when he saw Shea and two others standing on his porch.

 

“Hello, Ian,” Shea said sharply, as he brushed past him. Shea pulled the hat off his head and handed it to O’Shaughnessy, before smoothing his brown hair back into place.

 

Watching his boss take off his jacket and start looking through the rooms, O’Shaughnessy tried to remember the other two men’s names as they followed Shea around while he explored the first floor.  They looked familiar, but the shock and fear that was running through him at Shea’s unexpected appearance was making it hard to think. 

 

“Boss, what … how …” he stuttered before stopping himself.  He wanted to ask _What are you doing here?_ but Ian knew that would just set the other man off.  Shea had no patience for questions, unless he was the one doing the asking.

 

Instead of answering his unasked query, Shea pointed at the stairs. “Is your equipment up there?” 

 

Not waiting for O’Shaughnessy to answer, Shea and the two goons trotted up the stairs.  Ian felt sweat break out on his forehead.  What was Shea doing here?  Had his boss changed his mind about letting him handle the situation?  Was he about to take the one-way car ride that he had once promised Liam? 

 

Following closely behind, Ian managed to squeeze past Shea’s associates and shot them both a glare as he passed.  O’Shaughnessy then opened the back bedroom door for his boss, explained to him the set up, and showed him how he kept tabs on everyone in the residence. 

 

His boss nodded and then said, “This is very thorough.  Good job.”

 

Ian let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding at Shea’s approval.  Just as he was starting to relax Shea spoke again.  “I’m taking over.  The feds are on my ass trying to find anything to pin on me.  I barely was able to get out of Chicago without one of them tailing me.  If Cathy surfaces again, we need to be the ones who find her.”

 

“Hopefully she will make contact with Tim again, and we can nab her then,” O’Shaughnessy said, feeling the tension in the room grow as Shea started to pace back and forth.  The calm cool collected boss he was used to was gone.  The feds must be getting very close for Shea to be this anxious.   

 

O’Shaughnessy opened his mouth to continue, but his boss abruptly stopped pacing, and stared out the window at the Gibbs house. “We’ve run out of time.  The feds raided the offices a few days ago.  They didn’t find what they were looking for but if they get their hands on those accounting books, they will.  I am tired of waiting for Catherine McGee.  I have a plan.  It’s time we went on the offensive.  It’s time we took control.”

 

Then he turned to O’Shaughnessy with a wild look in his eyes, “This will be over and done within the next forty eight hours.  Understood?”

 

As Shea and his two silent associates went downstairs, Ian knew either both Cathy McGee and the journals were found in the next forty-eight hours or he would be joining Liam.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

_Sunday afternoon_

 

Turning the page, Tim found the question he was looking for and asked, “The monetary value of all the finished goods and services …” He stopped abruptly when he heard the front door close. 

 

Tim had been quizzing Jude for the past forty-five minutes for a test.  They were huddled around the coffee table, books and papers spread out between them.  Jude needed the practice and they both needed the distraction.  Jude’s test was coming up in a few weeks and he was super nervous about it.  Seeing Jackson bringing in the Sunday paper, Tim sat back with a huff.  He had hoped it was Ziva with news about his mother. 

 

His father was making phone calls and doing as much of the work from home as he could.  He didn’t want to leave Tim unprotected.  Tony was also working from the house.  Gibbs and him had set up a bit of a command center in the kitchen.  Ziva was back at the office. She was coordinating the search for Cathy from there.  Ducky had gone to the store to get groceries for dinner.  Tim and Jude had offered to go with him and help, but Gibbs didn’t want Tim out of his sight.  Tim hadn’t intended to overhear Gibbs’ conversation with the F.B.I. but he had.  Apparently, Shea had disappeared from Chicago, and his dad was afraid he was headed here.  So Tim wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without his dad until this was over. 

 

Tim actually appreciated that mentality, because it meant that his father cared about him.  Not that his mother didn’t care about him, but he could admit at least to himself that his mom more often than not was more worried about herself than him.  With Gibbs, he felt protected. 

 

Sharing a look and a shrug with Jude, Tim returned to the study question.  They took a break after another hour.  Walking into the kitchen, Tim playfully gave Jude a shove and said, “See and you were worried.”

 

Jude, blushing a little, said, “Shut up.”

 

“You got every one of those questions right.  I think you will be more than ready come August,” Tim shot back, going to the fridge and grabbing two sodas, one for him and one for Jude.  Seeing Tony’s tea glass empty on the kitchen table, Tim asked, “Do you want more tea, Agent DiNozzo?”

 

Tony, who had been hunched over his laptop, gave a quick yawn behind his hand before saying, “No, thank you, Tim.  I think I am going to start in on some coffee.  It was a long night and will be a long day as well.”

 

Tim was reaching into the cupboard for a coffee cup, just as Gibbs entered the kitchen, talking on the phone.

 

“I don’t care how you do it.  I want answers today.” Shutting his flip phone with force, Gibbs turned to Tony and continued, his voice laced with frustration.  “The power was out at NCIS.  It came back on within minutes, but everything has to be rebooted, and it will take at least an hour to get everything going again.”

 

“You want me to head down there and keep an eye on things?” Tony asked, coming to stand next to his aggravated boss. 

 

“No, Ziva is already breathing down their necks, and adding you to the mix won’t hurry things along any,” Gibbs said, before blowing out a heavy sigh. 

 

He gave Tony a quick pat on the back, and then turning he saw Tim and in a softer tone asked, “Oh, hey Tim, Jude.  How is studying going?”

 

“Good.  Jude will pass with no problem,” Tim said. 

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jude said with a self-depreciating smile. “We still have a lot of questions to go through.”

 

“I’m sure you will do fine.  Ducky was just telling me the other day how well you were making progress,” Gibbs said, grabbing his mug from the table, pouring himself a cup and reaching for the mug in Tim’s hand when a shout from outside froze everyone.

 

“Fire!”

 

Tony and Gibbs ran out of the kitchen with Tim and Jude at their heels.  They raced through the front door.  They stood still, briefly in shock as the smoke and flames burst out of the back of the Diaz’s house next door.  There were a couple of neighbors on their cell phones, who were standing in the middle of the street, presumably calling 911.   Tony leaped down the stairs in one jump. 

 

Tim and Jude were about to follow when Gibbs turned suddenly and said, “Go back into the house and stay there.”  When they hesitated, Gibbs pointed back over their shoulders, “I mean it, go inside.”

 

Tim watched as Gibbs ran down the stairs and followed Tony who had already kicked in the front door and entered the house. There was smoke bellowing out the door and some of the open windows. 

 

“Come on boys.  It will be okay,” Jackson said, as he herded them back inside and shut the door behind them. 

 

Both Jude and Tim ran into the living room and opened the curtain, in order to follow Gibbs orders but still be able to see what was happening.  Tim couldn’t help swaying back and forth anxiously as he watched the flames move from the back of the house to the front.  He felt Jackson come behind them and sit to one side of the window.

 

Tim heard Arthur bark once, and then there was a long pause, before the barking began to become more and more frantic.  Worried that Arthur was scared and wanting to bring him inside, Tim nudged Jude to get his attention, and then they quietly left the room. 

 

Opening the backdoor, Tim was surprised when he wasn’t greeted by the pup, so he shouted, “Arthur!”  He was practically screaming to be heard over the fire trucks that had just pulled up. 

 

Tim went in the direction of Arthur’s doghouse that was next to the fence closest to the Diaz’s house.  Jude went in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner, in order to search the side yard. 

 

Tim squatted down and looked inside the doghouse only to find it empty.  Hearing the barking start again, coming from the side yard, Tim ran around the corner and slammed into what felt like a solid wall.  Tim started to fall, but his arm was grabbed roughly in a bruising grip.  Three men were standing in the side yard, Arthur was running back and forth between them barking.  Jude was on the ground, eyes closed, not moving.  Tim opened his mouth to scream.  Then the closest man made a shushing sound.  A cruel smile spread across his face as he raised his gun and pointed it at Jude.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Tony gently laid the unconscious elderly woman on the front lawn.  Coughing, he staggered back when the paramedics rushed over.  Gibbs was met by the newly arrived firemen at the front door of the smoke filled house.  They took Mr. Diaz who was barely conscious from him.  Gibbs walked over to Tony, and giving him a few pats on the back as the younger man was bent in half, coughing and hacking, trying to get all the smoke from his lungs.  “Are you all right?”

 

Tony stood back up and said, “Yeah, I’m all right.”  He looked over to where the paramedics were now loading the husband and wife into the ambulances.  With a heavy sigh, Tony asked, “Do you think they will be okay?”

 

Gibbs wasn’t sure. Mrs. Diaz hadn’t been breathing when they found her, and her husband already had a myriad of health problems.  It didn’t look good.  “I don’t know.”

 

They watched as the firefighters battled the blaze.  In minutes, the diligent men and women had the fire well under control.  An exhausted Gibbs and Tony turned back to the Gibbs house.  They had only walked a few steps when Jackson ran out to the front porch, a panicked look on his face.  Gibbs felt his stomach drop, and adrenaline flooded his system so rapidly that he momentarily felt dizzy. 

 

Running, Gibbs met Jackson on the porch. “What happened?”

 

Jackson pointed behind him.  Out of breath, he wheezed, “Back … yard … Jude hurt … Tim …”

 

Gibbs didn’t wait for his father to finish. Instead he rushed past, pulling his gun, his heart beating loudly in his ears, and time seemed to slow as he ran down the hallway.  Pushing the back door open with such force it slammed against the side of the house, Gibbs quickly scanned the backyard, gun at the ready.  He heard Tony right behind him.  Moving quietly but quickly towards the side yard, Gibbs peeked around the corner.  The side yard was empty, save for Jude lying on the ground; a subdued Arthur was curled up next to him.  The back gate at the far end was open, and there was no sign of Tim.  Glancing at Tony, Gibbs pointed to the too still figure of Jude and then went past him praying that he was still alive.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony kneel down and check on Jude.  Gibbs kept going, walking faster now.  The sickening feeling in his gut said that Tim was already gone.  Once he went through the gate, he saw he was right.  The fire trucks were still next door, and the neighbors were still huddled in groups here or there, all facing the burned house.  Tim was nowhere in sight. 

 

For a moment, Gibbs’ mind seemed to grind to a halt.  Then the fear was eclipsed by anger.  Ducky’s car pulled up into Gibbs’ driveway, and Gibbs ran over, practically yanking the elderly man out of the car. 

 

The startled man asked, “Good God, Jethro, what is the matter?”

 

 “Quick.  It’s Jude,” Gibbs bit out. 

 

That had the M. E. moving.  Within seconds, he was kneeling down next to the still unconscious Jude, opposite of Tony, and placing his fingers against the side of Jude’s neck. 

 

Tony’s expression was grim as he said, “He’s breathing.  I smell chloroform in the air.”

 

Ducky looked relieved, putting a hand against Jude’s cheek, saying, “My poor boy,” before glancing between Tony and Gibbs and asking, “What happened?”

 

Tony looked up at Gibbs, who was speaking rapidly into the phone, calling in an APB. “Tim?”

 

Gibbs just grimly shook his head as he punched in the numbers for NCIS and Vance.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter, we are almost done! I hope you'll are enjoying my story. :D

Gripping the shot glass tightly, Cathy watched the clear liquid sway back and forth barely kissing the rim, before she knocked it back quickly, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down her throat and settled warmly in her stomach.  She signaled to the lone bartender for another round. 

 

She had fucked up.  She had fucked up badly. 

 

What was she thinking, grabbing Tim like that?  Hurting him.  Like she had been hurt so many times.  No wonder he didn’t want to come with her.  When she had seen his arm and how she had drawn blood, Cathy’s stomach had dropped.  She had felt like throwing up.  So she had given Tim her number and walked away.  It was in that moment she knew all of her dreams of a happily ever after with Tim in Arizona were probably nothing but a fantasy. 

 

The bartender came over with the vodka bottle, and Cathy accepted the refill with a slight nod, refusing to make eye contact, not wanting to have the barkeeper start yammering at her again.  The man had tried to talk her ear off when she had first arrived.  She didn’t want to talk.  She wanted to drink and try to forget. 

 

The bar was located around the corner from her hotel.  It was decorated in stereotypical thirties décor that was starting to show wear.  There was the standard long mirror behind the bar where Cathy could see her unflattering reflection.  Behind her was a smattering of tables here and there.  A man and woman occupied one of them.  They had been obviously drinking for awhile, maybe working up the nerve to go home together.  But it was the other man in the back that had caught her eye when she had first sat down.  She knew at an instinctive level that he would know where she could score a hit.  Her eyes kept going back to him, it was tempting.  She looked back down to her glass.  Cathy couldn’t help compare the bar to others she had been in with Liam.  It wasn’t as low-rent as the dives they used to frequent, but it was near enough that she felt comfortable. 

 

_Liam._

 

Cathy couldn’t believe he was dead.  She had cried about that fact last night when she had returned to her hotel.  She still loved him, even though he had treated her horribly: hitting her and keeping her high as a kite so she wouldn’t care about anything except him and her next score.  She had lost Tim because of him. 

 

With that thought Cathy felt a sense of guilt shoot though her despite the alcohol.  She couldn’t help reflect that maybe it hadn’t been entirely Liam’s fault that Tim was now out of reach.  Unless by some miracle, he changed his mind and gave her a call.  That brought her thoughts back to Tim’s words at the bus stop, beyond him telling her he couldn’t go with her.  There was also Shea to worry about.  When she had left Arizona, she had known there was some risk coming out of hiding to retrieve her son, but she never thought Shea would try to track her down through Tim.

 

She should’ve.  Cathy wasn’t Liam she was smarter than him.  At first, her mind had been addled by drugs, but once out of rehab, she should’ve grabbed Tim and made a run for it.  Now it was too late. 

 

Cathy, lost in her thoughts, realized abruptly that she was staring at the man in the corner again and mentally calculating how much money she had in her purse.  Shaking her head and dragging her eyes from the mirror in front of her to her now empty drink, Cathy dug in her purse and retrieved a couple of bills that she lay on the bar.  A shudder went through her as she forced herself to walk out the front door.  It was difficult.  Nothing would feel better than to lose all sense of time and place, to not have to think of Tim, Liam, Shea, to feel nothing, and that was something drugs could give her.  What kept her walking back to her hotel was the fact that she had already lost her son and ten years of her life to them, and she didn’t want to go back.  She wasn’t that person anymore.  At least she didn’t want to be.

 

Halting just outside her hotel, Cathy reached into her purse to search for her keycard.  Her hand brushed against her phone.  She hesitated for a moment then pulled it out and stared at it.  She had turned it off shortly after driving away from Tim.  Gibbs was still in law enforcement, and so she wasn’t sure if she could be tracked by it or not.   It was a pay as you go phone, but she didn’t want to take any chances.  Now though, she wanted to turn it back on and see if maybe, just maybe Tim had tried to call her.  Finally, with a _fuck it_ spoken under her breath she turned it on. 

 

It took a moment to power up, but when it did, she saw that she had a voice mail.  Taking in a shaky breath, Cathy pushed the button and brought the phone up to her ear.  Listening, Cathy’s face drained of color and she brought a hand up to her mouth in shock.  Then she was running to the edge of the sidewalk, waving her arm, and shouting, “Taxi!”

 

After what seemed an eternity later, one screeched to a halt, and Cathy hopped in, giving the taxi driver the address in a voice that shook with fear.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Tim desperately tried to keep on his feet, as he was pushed roughly through the basement doorway.  With his hands tied in front of him, he had no hope of catching himself when he fell and rolled down the flight of stairs.  Tim felt his ankle catch on one of the steps and then spike of pain shot up his left leg.  Eyes closed, almost biting his lip clean through to keep from crying out, he lay at the bottom of the stairs.  He had been warned what would happen if he made any noise. Breathing in and out deeply, Tim was shaking with fear and pain and adrenalin.  His entire body hurt not only from the fall, but also from the violent handling he had endured since he had been kidnapped. 

 

He had been grabbed, and a rag had been roughly placed over his face.  Tim had struggled briefly before he had passed out.  He had woken up in the trunk of a car, hearing a garage door open and shut.   The trunk had opened, and while Tim had been still blinking against the sudden bright light, he had been unceremoniously yanked out.   His hands were tied together, and he had been walked into the kitchen.  The curtains were drawn, but the windows were open, so Tim could feel a cool breeze that was helping cool off the house, which in spite of that effort, Tim still found the house stifling. 

 

He was pushed into a chair at the kitchen table.  In front of him lay a pad of paper and a cell phone.  He was told to read the script in front of him and not to deviate.  So with a gun to his head, he had called his mom’s cell phone and read the words.  He told her he was okay and that she would be texted with a time and location, and that she was to come alone with the journals, or they were going to kill him.  He had then been marched to the basement door and practically thrown in. 

 

When his heart rate finally started to slow, Tim opened his eyes and although still hurting from the fall, he tried to push up with his bound hands in order to stand, only to cry out when he tried to put his weight on his left leg.  Collapsing onto his back, Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breath against the blinding pain.  When his leg went from excruciating to a dull throb and he was able to think again, he opened his eyes and looked down.  He saw his ankle was bent at an odd angle.  It was definitely broken.  Tim felt fear rise up in his chest, but he pushed it back down.  He couldn’t panic; if he panicked, he would be no good to anybody.  He needed to get away and warn his mother not to go to the meet up.  Tim knew she would be walking into a trap and that if she did neither one of them would be walking out of it.  He had realized this was a one way trip when his captors had allowed him to see their faces.  There were four of them, but the only one he recognized was the tall man, whose name apparently was O’Shaughnessy.  

 

Turning his head, Tim looked over the basement.  There was one solitary window high up on the far wall.  It was very small, too small. There was no way he would be able to squeeze through.  The sun was setting, so with the weak light shining through the window, Tim saw that the center of the basement was crowded with boxes and old, broken down furniture.  There was also a foul odor in the air that, now that Tim had noticed it made stomach roll, so he tried to breathe through his mouth.  He needed to get up.  Although he couldn’t fit through the window, he might be able to use something in the basement to signal to the outside world. 

 

Grabbing the newel post, Tim pulled himself up with shaking arms to stand on one leg, wincing as his broken ankle throbbed in time with his heartbeat.  Now that he was vertical, Tim saw that the basement was jammed packed with boxes that extended to the walls on pretty much all sides.  Squinting at the writing on the boxes in an effort to read them, Tim soon realized it was a no go, thanks in part to the low light and the writer’s very sloppy handwriting.  Recognizing he needed to let go of the staircase and get closer to see if they would have anything that would help him, Tim made a tentative hop away from his perch next to the stairs.  Tears slipped from his eyes as movement jostled his busted ankle, but it was manageable, so he kept going.  Tim made sure that each jump was done with care, as he didn’t want to fall knowing how much it would hurt and how difficult it would be to get back up again. 

 

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Tim reached the first row of boxes.  He was relieved to see the tops of the boxes were only folded together rather than taped, so he wouldn’t have to struggle to open them.  Once he got the top one opened, he saw it was full of academic journals.  He moved on to the next box, only to have the same result.  Looking around in exasperation and a bit of panic, Tim gingerly moved around the row of boxes, trying to find a tool box which may at the very least give him a weapon to defend himself or even a flashlight.  Finally, he saw that behind a stack of boxes was a large square object, but since it was tucked into a corner and furthest away from the light he couldn’t be sure if it was a tool box or just a wooden chest. 

 

Making sure he was balanced on his good leg, Tim started hopping over to the far corner.  About halfway over, the foul smell that was permeating the basement got a thousand times worse, and Tim actually had to pause with a hand over his mouth and nose in an attempt to block out the smell.  He wondered if maybe there was a pantry down here with some food that had gone bad.  Trying to ignore the stench, Tim kept moving forward he had almost reached the container when his foot caught on something on the floor and he fell.  Tim tried to catch himself with his tied together hands, and he just managed to not land face down on what he tripped over, but the fall still jolted his ankle. 

 

Writhing in agony, Tim clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the yell that was trying to claw its way out of his throat.  When he came back to himself, Tim slowly realized he was lying on something.  It was cold and was definitely the source of the smell.  He could barely see, as the pale light didn’t reach the far corner, but whatever it was, it was mostly wrapped in a tarp, and looking down Tim recognized a row of white buttons.  Following the buttons upwards, Tim with growing horror, saw exactly what he was laying on.  The face that was inches away from his own, was bloated, the skin taunt across the cheekbones, the eyes were slightly open, mouth wide, and there was a bloody hole in the forehead.   Tim scrambled back with a yell, and when he became aware of tiny squirming sensations on his hands, he started to hyperventilate.  Bringing them close to his face, he saw he had at least a half dozen maggots crawling over his fingers and palms. 

 

This time, he couldn’t help the scream that was ripped from his mouth; he flung his hands away from his face and wiped them on his jeans, before he dragging himself backwards.  In his desperation to get away from the corpse and the maggots, he barreled into a pile of boxes behind him.  The boxes fell forward landing on him hard.  One box hit him square in the chest knocking the wind out of him, the second, heavier one landed on his legs wrenching an anguished cry out of Tim. The pain and the lack of oxygen, due to the blow, had Tim’s vision narrowing before he lost all consciousness. 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Talking harshly into his phone while getting any and all information on Shea and his known associates, Gibbs stood at his desk.  He had already spoken to Fornell who was still in Chicago to; lead the raid on all of Shea’s holdings.  So far, they had not located the mob boss; they believed he would be found eventually.  Thanks to the now conscious Jude’s description of the men who took Tim, they knew Shea was in D.C.  He was going to use Tim to get to Cathy.  So Gibbs had APB’s out for all four, Shea, O’Shaughnessy, Cathy, and Tim.  If Shea got a hold of Cathy and Tim, they would both most likely be dead.  By the end of the call, Fornell had decided to head back to D.C. immediately. 

 

Hanging up the phone, Gibbs shouted across the bullpen: “What have we got?”

 

Stepping around her desk, Ziva pointed the remote at the television.  A map showing concentric circles popped up, “The local leos have canvassed the area, and cyber have pulled all footage.  Unfortunately, the closest is at the park.  None of your neighbors could even identify the car. They were too busy watching the firefighters.”

 

Then Tony moved closer to Ziva, took the remote and changed the screen from the map to grainy footage of a stone façade of an upscale hotel with a small blonde woman in front of it, “We finally located where Cathy McGee was staying.  She is booked under the name of Kate Mulroney.  Regrettably, she hasn’t been seen since this morning.”

 

“Did we get anywhere with the phone number Cathy gave Tim?” Gibbs asked.  Some of the desperation he was feeling leaked into his voice.  It felt like his chest was cracked open, and the longer there were no leads the more a terror he hadn’t known since Shannon’s and Kelly’s deaths was taking over.

 

“Sorry Boss,” Tony said, his voice heavy with regret.  “It is a disposable phone and we haven’t been able to track it yet … but it is only a matter of time.”

 

“We don’t have time.  _Tim_ doesn’t have time.  How hard is it to find…” Gibbs shouted out his voice sharp and ringing across the bullpen.  Before he abruptly stopped, and turned away, biting back the words that were threatening to burst forth.  Tim was out there somewhere in the hands of killers, taken from their home, after Gibbs had promised to protect him. 

 

The tension was broken by Tony’s desk phone ringing.  Tony, hurrying over, answered curtly, “DiNozzo.”  

 

Unsure of what to do next, Gibbs ran a weary hand through his hair, but turned when he heard his second in command exclaim loudly, “What? No, escort her up here immediately!”

 

A tentative smile spread across Tony’s face, and he said, “Boss you are not going to believe this, but Cathy McGee just showed up downstairs and asked for you.”

 

Gibbs barely had a chance to wrap his mind around this turn of good fortune, before the elevator dinged and a woman he hadn’t seen in over thirteen years stepped off with an armed escort. 

 

Up until this moment, Cathy McGee had been a vague memory filled in with mug shot photos and a feeling of intense anger because of what she had done to their son. She had taken an almost mythic level of unreality.  Now, seeing her in person, Gibbs saw a petite blonde who had a haggard look about her.  Someone he would pass on the street and never look at twice. 

 

As soon as Cathy McGee saw him, she surged forward, her hand in her purse as though searching for something, and shouted, “Jethro!”

 

Ziva intercepted her by gripping her forearm to prevent her from pulling out whatever she was reaching for in her purse.  “Stop.”

 

Cathy winced and said, “I was just getting my phone out.  Tim called and left a message.”

 

Ziva looked over her shoulder, and when she saw Gibbs nod, she released her and allowed her to pass. 

 

Finally pulling the phone from her purse, Cathy entered in the code, set it on speaker, and played the message.  Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs gathered around. 

 

“Hello mom, this is Tim.” The voice through the speaker sounded on the tinny side, but it was definitely Tim.  Gibbs felt his heartbeat speed up at the sound of his son’s voice. 

 

“I’m okay.  You will bring the journals to a location that will be texted to you.  Come alone.  If you contact the police …”  There was a long pause before a pained grunt was heard and then Tim continued his voice more watery now like he was holding back tears, “If you contact the police, I will be killed.” The message ended abruptly, all in all lasting less than a minute. 

 

Hearing Tim’s voice, and the pain and fear in his words sent, Gibbs’ emotions into overdrive, but his son needed him to be clearheaded, so he pushed the fury and the terror down and said in a harsh voice, “How long ago did you get this message?”

 

“A couple of hours ago,” Cathy said.  Her face was blotchy like she had been crying. “I had my phone turned off.  I had gone to the bar to get a drink.  I’ve been through a lot in the last few days and I needed a bit of a break.  You can understand that, right?”  She looked up at the three agents, but when they remained silent, she continued with a bit more attitude. “I came here as soon as heard the voicemail.”

 

Gibbs’ anger that he had pushed down rose again, and it was overwhelming to the point he couldn’t even look at her; he was afraid of what he might do.  Seizing the phone and walking a few paces away, he took in a few deep breathes but it did no good.   Tony and Ziva followed while, the security guard staying with Cathy, one hand on her arm to keep her still as she tried to follow as well.  Gibbs said quietly, “I will take this down to Abby and see if she can get any more information from the voicemail or maybe even track where the call came from.  Tony and Ziva, get Ms. McGee into interrogation, find out where those journals are, and then get your hands on them.  She will probably respond to you better than she would me right now.  We may need her and those journals for the exchange later. I’ll call Fornell and see if he knows of any houses or businesses owned by Shea or any of his associates in the area where they could be stashing Tim.”

 

Ziva nodded and Tony said, “Yes, boss.”  Gibbs quickly turned away. 

 

As Gibbs headed for the elevator almost on autopilot, he heard Cathy shout his name, but he kept walking.  He felt like he was drowning and needed a few minutes alone.  Once the elevator doors closed, Gibbs loosened his collar and pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing himself to keep it together.  Tim needed him.  Gibbs kept hearing Tim’s voice and how scared he was.  His son had been through so much.  If Shea found out Cathy had done what she had been told not to do, Tim would be dead.  _If he isn’t already,_ came the stray, unhelpful thought. 

 

It caused Gibbs’ already volatile emotions to spike, and he felt his breath hitch before he heard a familiar voice say, “Get it together, Gunny.  Now is not the time to be falling apart.   Your son needs you to be thinking clearly.”

 

Gibbs’ eyes shot open, and he expected Mike Franks to be standing right in front of him.  Instead, he was alone in the elevator, but the words were enough for him to get a shaky grip on his emotions, just in time for the elevator doors to open. 

 

The blaring death metal music was like hitting a brick wall, which allowed Gibbs enough of a distraction to further get himself under control, until he was back to his normal stoic self when he tapped the forensic specialist on the shoulder. 

 

Abby whirled around in surprise, shut the music off with a remote, and tackled Gibbs with a bone crushing hug.  “Gibbs, I’m so sorry, the music helps me think.  If there is anything I or my babies can do to get Tim back, please tell me I am going crazy down here.”

 

Gibbs returned the hug briefly before he disentangled himself from Abby’s embrace, and held up Cathy’s cell phone.  “Tim left Cathy a voicemail, I need to know every bit of info you can glean from it.”

 

Abby’s eyes widened and, snatching the phone from Gibbs grasp, she said, “On it.”

 

Gibbs walked over to Abby’s office and picked up the desk phone to call Fornell.  All the while, he kept an eye on the bouncy goth as she worked her magic.  Gibbs had a sinking feeling that Cathy’s phone was their one and only chance to get Tim back alive. 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

An hour later, Gibbs sighed in frustration, Fornell was in the air and on his way so he was having his people check on any of Shea’s dealings in D.C. but so far it looked like the crime boss never made it this far east.  Wearily he left a message for  Ziva and Tony on their cellphones, find out if they had the location of Shea’s journals yet Gibbs couldn’t help but hope they had because if Cathy was being less then helpful and not willing to talk to them, then he would have to talk to her himself and he wasn’t ready for that yet. 

 

When Tony called back Gibbs learned that they now knew where the journals were and that they had sent some agents to retrieve them, Gibbs felt a small sliver of relief.  If worst came to worst they would at least have them for the meet.  Just as he was about to call and check on Jackson and Ducky who had taken Jude to the hospital to get him checked over, Abby turned and waved him over with a small bounce. 

 

Gibbs joined Abby in front of the computer monitors; as he watched he realized she had uploaded the voicemail when the audio waves flowed across the screen.

 

“I was unable to trace the phone that called Ms. McGee,” Abby said disappointment dripping from every word.  “I then turned to studying the call itself.”  Pointing at one of the sound waves on the computer screen, Abby said “This is poor Tim’s voice.  Once I muted the foreground sound, I amplified the background noises that we wouldn’t normally hear.  It is still faint, but there are a few sounds of interest.  Give it a listen.”

 

With a few keystrokes, Abby sent the sound clip to the lab’s speakers.  At first, Gibbs heard nothing, but then he noticed a very faint barking noise.  “It’s a dog,” Gibbs said.

 

“I would say a puppy, but here is the interesting part,” Abby said, a note of triumph in her voice as she played the next section. 

 

Gibbs unconsciously leaned closer, until he heard a low shrill sound.  “What was that?”

 

“I sent it through my sound database.  It is a very, very, very, faint fire truck horn,” Abby said with a smile. “I think the kidnappers that took Tim didn’t go far.”  Then she brought up an aerial map of Gibbs’ neighborhood with a few more keystrokes.  “If we assume that fire truck was from your neighbor’s fire, then that puppy barking in the background is Arthur, and if we correlate those two sounds, I believe the call was coming from the house directly behind yours.” With triumphant flourish, Abby zoomed in on the house in question.

 

About to question the assumption, Gibbs’ opened his mouth and quickly closed it when Abby held up a finger and continued. “There’s more.  The house belongs to a Doctor Manning, who according to his Facebook page has been on sabbatical for the past few months.  He made a post a few days ago about how he had to go home due to his funding being cut.  He hasn’t updated his page in the last forty-eight hours, and this is a man who has an obsession with the social media site and updates it several times a day.”

 

Gibbs had never meet Dr. Manning, although he had seen him vaguely through the slats of the fence.  “They set up in a house that is vacant so they can keep an eye on Tim and hope Cathy shows up?” Gibbs said, disbelief in his voice.

 

“I know I was a little doubtful as well, but then I scrolled through the various Facebook and blog pages of the neighbors and came across this photo.” She brought up a brightly colored food blog.  “This blog is run by Dr. Manning’s next door neighbor, Missy Holiday; she took a family photo of her and her two dogs a week ago, and look who is in the background.” 

 

Expanding the picture, she zoomed over Ms. Holiday’s shoulder, and Gibbs saw a brown-haired man getting into his car.  Although the picture had pixelated a bit, O’Shaughnessy was still recognizable.  Gibbs smiled for the first time in what felt likes days, gave Abby kiss on the cheek, and said, “You are the best.  Thank you.”

 

He turned and headed towards the elevator to collect his team and talk to Vance about assembling a tactical team to breach the house.  Just as he reached the doors, his phone and beeped alerting him to a new voicemail.  Gibbs opened his phone and listened to the message from Fornell.  The F.B.I. agent was on the ground and headed for NCIS.  Gibbs texted him the situation and asked Fornell to help him with the raid on Dr. Manning’s house.  At the affirmative answer from the federal agent, Gibbs felt a surge of hope flood through him now that he a course of action to take. 

 

_Hold on Tim.  I’m coming._

 

**~NCIS~**

 

O’Shaughnessy shifted nervously as he sat in the hard kitchen chair and watched Shea pacing the length of the living room whilst shouting into his phone.  Being in close quarters with his boss had been a real eye opener for him.  Robert Shea was unhinged.  The man was in more trouble than Ian had realized.  It wasn’t just the money he was looking for, it wasn’t just the incriminating evidence within those journals, it was also offshore accounts and the passwords to those accounts that Shea needed.  Without them, he was just a two-bit hood, like the rest of them. 

 

This had been all overheard by O’Shaughnessy while Shea had continued to scream at his minions in Chicago as the F.B.I closed in and closed down Shea’s various businesses.  As Shea continued to unravel in front of him, O’Shaughnessy realized this plan of Shea’s had no chance of working, and more than likely Shea would have to skip town with no money, no journals, and really no power other than his say so.  So the kid they were keeping in the basement was pretty much dead, as well as Cathy if she even showed up, and O’Shaughnessy knew he was living on borrowed time.  Because even if by some miracle the plan went off without a hitch, Shea wasn’t the forgiving type, so he was expecting a bullet to the back of the head for all of his troubles but what O’Shaughnessy was really worried about was his mom and his sister back in Chicago.  Now hearing how thinly Shea’s men were being spread around town, he knew it was the perfect time to get them out of the line of fire. 

 

Surreptitiously pulling his phone out of his pocket, O’Shaughnessy sent a quick text to his mom and sister telling them to get out of Chicago as quickly and as quietly as they could and that he would hopefully call them later.  When he got back a thumbs up a few minutes later, he pocketed his phone and then faking a stretch, he stood up and offered to make coffee.  He was ignored by Shea, although the blonde man that had come with Shea took him up on the offer.  The other man was upstairs, keeping an eye on the vacant Gibbs’ house, just in case Cathy went there for help.   Slipping into the kitchen, O’Shaughnessy rattled a few cupboards and then walked quietly to the sliding glass door and, pulling it open, he slipped out. 

 

He opened the side gate; let himself out of the backyard and into the front, where O’Shaughnessy was planning to take his car as far away as possible.  As he was taking one last look over his shoulder to see if anyone had noticed his escape, Ian felt a hand grab his arm and a gun was pushed up against his head.  Turning his head slightly, he saw two cops … no, federal agents.  He was quickly cuffed, and one of the agents said in a whisper, “Remember me?”  It was then that O’Shaughnessy recognized him as the man he had almost killed six months ago.  He nodded yes, then the agent continued, “Keep quiet, or this is going to end really badly for you. Understood?”

 

O’Shaughnessy nodded again, and his weapon that had been in his shoulder holster was removed.  The NCIS agent asked in a harsh whisper, “How many?”  He thought about not answering, but then he realized something.  It was over for him, he was going to jail, but now he needed to make the best deal possible, so he needed to get on their good side.  He said, “Three.  Shea and one man are downstairs and the other man is upstairs watching the house.”  The agent nodded before handing him off to another man, who was F.B.I., according to his flak vest.  As he was quickly led away, he saw agents surrounding the house. 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Gibbs quickly reworked the mission now that they knew how many men were inside and where they were located.  After he explained his plan to the team that consisted of NCIS and F.B.I. agents, Gibbs and Tony quickly went through the backyard.  They walked as close to the house as they could so the upstairs man wouldn’t see them.  The sliding glass door was still open.  Weapons at the ready, Gibbs and Tony made their way quietly through the kitchen.  However the stealth may have been unneeded as they could hear Shea yelling into the phone.  They waited for the signal.  The door bell ringing, distracted the two men in the living room causing them both to turn towards the front door.  Gibbs and Tony made their move. 

 

“Freeze! NCIS!”  both men shouted just as the front door was kicked in by Ziva, who was followed by Fornell, and they both ran into the living room. 

 

“Hands up,” Tony yelled, as the two surprised men turned, and when they started to reach for their weapons, he continued shouting, “Don’t even think about it!” The two men froze.  Ziva and a  F.B.I. agent went upstairs to secure the other man. 

 

“On your knees,” Gibbs commanded and when they complied, he said, “Hands on top of your head, fingers laced together.”  With a murderous look to his face, Shea obeyed, and his henchman followed his lead.  Gibbs covered the two men as Fornell cuffed Shea and Tony cuffed the other man.  Within a couple of minutes, Ziva and her fellow agent were making their way down the stairs with the third man, who was also in restrained. 

 

With impatience and a growing sense of fear as rooms were cleared and Tim wasn’t found, Gibbs strode over to Shea as Fornell brought the mob boss to his feet and he asked, “Where is Timothy McGee?”

 

Shea drew himself up to his full height and spat on the ground.  Gibbs lunged forward, ready to beat the answer out of Shea, rage surging through him at this man who had caused his son so much pain and anguish.  He was held back by Tony as Fornell roughly dragged the other man out the door. 

 

Shaking Tony off of him, Gibbs walked up to Shea’s henchman and simply said, “Well?”

 

The burly man hesitated before saying, “Basement.”

 

Gibbs hurried over to the basement door, Tony on his heels.  Opening the wooden door, Gibbs automatically flicked on the light switch and was hit by a smell that, as a NCIS agent he had an all too much familiarity with.  The smell of decomposition. 

 

“Oh god,” Tony said his voice shaking.

 

“Please, Tim, no,” Gibbs whispered as he rushed down the stairs.  He had to find his son.  It couldn’t end like this.  Tim couldn’t be dead. 

 

At the bottom of the stairs, Gibbs turned frantically in a circle in an attempt to see past rows and rows of boxes, before he went to the left, as the odor seemed to be coming from there.  He stopped so abruptly that Tony almost ran into his back. Gibbs felt frozen in place as he stared at a blue tarp covering what could only be a body.  He knew there was no way he could make himself walk over there, and lift up the tarp confirm what his brain was already screaming at him was true. 

 

Tony clasped his shoulder tightly for a brief moment and whispered, “I’ll do it,” before he walked around him.  Kneeling down next to the body, Tony gripped the edge of the tarp and reluctantly pulled it back. “It’s not him,” Tony said, relief running through every word. 

 

The words propelling him forward, Gibbs stood next to Tony and saw his head agent was right.  In front of him was an adult male who had more than likely been dead for a few days, maybe the missing Dr. Manning.  So where was Tim?

 

“Tim!” Gibbs shouted as he turned around.  To his left, he saw one of the rows of boxes had collapsed.  As he moved toward it, he heard a low groan. 

 

Moving the boxes aside with the help of Tony, Gibbs biting back a sob knelt next to his son.  He was so still. He had a black eye and a cut on his lip, his clothes were rumpled and dirty, and his ankle was at an odd angle and was more than likely broken.   Tim’s eyes fluttered.   Then he opened them, squinting against the light. 

 

“Tim?” Gibbs asked, brushing his bangs away from his face.

 

“Dad? Tony?” Tim asked in confusion. 

 

His voice a little watery, Tony said, “Hey buddy.”  

 

Tim’s eyes darted from Tony to his father, and then he sat up desperately grabbing onto Gibbs. 

 

Pulling his son into his arms, Gibbs held him as Tim started to sob. “It’s okay, son.  We are going to be alright,” he repeated over and over again his own eyes full. 

 

Tony stood up and asked, “You want me to get the medics down here?”

 

Gibbs shook his head in the negative before he said, “No, it’s too crowded.  Clear the way I’ll carry him up the stairs.”

 

Tony moved towards the stairs and started shifting boxes to create a corridor for Gibbs and Tim to get through. 

 

Tim pulled back, and asked, “How did you find me?”

 

Cupping his face, Gibbs looked over his facial injuries and said, “There will be time for that later.  Other than your ankle are you hurt anywhere else?”

 

“No.  They smacked me around a bit, but nothing too bad.  But I think my ankle is broken.  Can we go home?” Tim asked, tears still running down his cheeks, and to Gibbs, he had never looked younger than he did in that moment.

 

“Oh, Tim.  I would love to just take you home, but you need to go to the hospital and get that ankle taken care of.  But I promise, as soon as humanly possible, I will take you home,” Gibbs said sincerely.

 

Tim looked upset at the news, but he rallied, and said, “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Gibbs parroted, and placing one arm around Tim’s back and another one under his knees added, “Hang on to me.  This may hurt but I will try to go as quickly as I can.”

 

Gibbs tried to be as gentle as possible, but as he picked up Tim, his son whimpered in pain.  The sound went straight to his heart, and Gibbs whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 

Tim once again said, “It’s okay,” and then rested his head against Gibbs’ shoulder.

 

Gibbs climbed the stairs as carefully as he could, talking softly to his son and reveling in the fact that Tim was alive. 

 


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it. This series started way back in 2012 and then sat in my wip folder for over three years until I signed up for the NCIS big bang in 2016 and finally finished the first story. Originally it was only supposed to be a one story kind of deal but then it grew. I needed Tim to have closure, so I continued to write and as I wrote the fate of Tim, Gibbs, and Cathy changed over the years. One thing that I knew I wanted from the very beginning was for Tim to find Gibbs and for them and the rest of the team to become family, and so hopefully with this series I have accomplished that. I may at some time write some one-shots in this verse as the muse wills it and because in all honesty I will probably miss this family that I created. 
> 
> All these words to say I hope you have enjoyed this series as much as I have loved writing it. Thank you.

_Four Days Later_

 

 Standing outside the door to the conference room, Gibbs stared down at the folder in his hands.  He had been standing there for a couple minutes, trying to get his thoughts in order.  He knew as much as he wanted Cathy as far away from their son as possible, she was still Tim’s mother.  She had made, in his mind, unforgivable mistakes that had almost killed their son twice over, but Tim still loved her.  If she was still steeped in her addiction, he wouldn’t have any trouble denying her access to Tim, but not only was she now sober, she had also come to NCIS with the voicemail that had been so crucial to finding Tim in time.  So Gibbs had worked with the district attorney and with Cathy’s lawyer.  They had hammered out a deal that would be best for everyone. Cathy would not do jail time.  Instead, she would be on probation for seven years.  She would have to go to counseling and take parenting classes.  She would also only be able to see Tim in supervised visits. 

 

He was also worried about his son.  It had been four days since he had been rescued, and Tim had yet to talk about it at all.  He had retreated within himself, and that reminded Gibbs of when Tim had first moved in.  At times, he felt all the progress Tim had made in the last few months had been for naught and they were back to square one.  

 

Taking in a deep breath, Gibbs opened the door and walked over to the table and sat down.   Dressed in a business suit, Cathy was sitting across from him, her hands had a death grip on a cup of coffee. Her lawyer, Mrs. Ruiz, was an older woman closer to Ducky’s age and was sitting next to her. 

 

Opening the folder in his hands, Gibbs said in a tone of voice he used with suspects, “Here is the deal we talked about …”

 

Cathy interrupted in a rush. “How’s Tim?”

 

Clearing his throat in irritation, Gibbs answered, “He is resting at home.  Once the swelling goes down on his ankle, the doctor believes he will only need to have a walking cast.”  He had informed Cathy of Tim’s injury a few days ago.  He had offered to place a call so that she could talk to Tim directly, but she had declined stating that she wanted to wait to hear from the judge as far as what her future concerning Tim would be. 

 

“So no surgery?” Cathy questioned anxiously.

 

“No, he will not need surgery.  He will just need to use crutches,” Gibbs said before pushing the papers he needed her to sign across the table. 

 

“That’s good.  Good,” Cathy repeated distractedly as she reached for the papers and placed them in front of her.  “And Shea?’

 

It was a fair question, but Gibbs just wanted to get this meeting over with and get back home.  Tim had plenty of company, as Jackson, Ducky, and Jude were there, but Gibbs had developed an almost paranoid fear that if Tim was out of his sight for more than a few minutes, something else would happen to him. 

 

Testily Gibbs said, “Thanks to the journals, and O’Shaughnessy flipping on Shea, he is going to go to prison for a long time.”  O’Shaughnessy had been looking at first degree murder charges and had agreed to testify if the death penalty was taken off the table.  This had relieved Gibbs, as he did not want Tim to have to face the hit man in court and testify about the cold-blooded murder of Liam Thomas. 

 

“Good.  Good.” Cathy looked down at the papers like they might bite her. 

 

Gibbs placed a pen next to her hand, in the hopes of Cathy taking the hint and signing the damn papers. 

 

Cathy glanced at Gibbs quickly before she looked at her lawyer and said, with tears gathering in her eyes, “I can’t do it.”

 

Her lawyer said in a kind voice, “Are you sure?”

 

“Can’t do what?” Gibbs asked in anger, his voice rose, he was afraid she was backing out of their deal.  As far as Gibbs was concerned he had been more than generous.  She could’ve been facing prison time, and to try to back out now was more than Gibbs could handle at the moment.  

 

Ignoring Gibbs’ words, Cathy firmly said, “I’m sure.”

 

Mrs. Ruiz withdrew a folder of her own from her briefcase and opened it; she removed papers and pushed them across the table to Gibbs.  Still waiting for an explanation, he didn’t even bother to pick them up.

 

“Ms. McGee has realized the original deal would not be in her or Tim’s best interest,” Ms. Ruiz said, unfazed by Gibbs’ refusal.

 

Gibbs couldn’t help the streak of fear that went through him.  What if Cathy tried to take Tim away?  Honestly, he couldn’t see a judge giving her full custody, but he could see her getting partial unsupervised visitation.  Gibbs didn’t trust Cathy as far as he could throw her; he definitely did trust her to spend time alone with Tim. He picked up the papers with apprehension. 

 

What he read stunned him.  “You are giving up your parental rights?” he asked in shock.

 

Answering with a tremor in her voice, Cathy twisted her hands together. “Yes.  It’s better this way.  I can’t handle being a mom right now.”

 

Mrs. Ruiz laid a hand on Cathy’s arm and said, “We went to a judge this morning.  Cathy asked to give up custody of Tim and have her probation set in Arizona, where she already has a residence as well as a job.  The judge agreed but on the condition that you would sign off on the new terms.”

 

 Cathy leaned forward, and for the first time, she didn’t appear nervous; instead she was excited.  “I just received notice that I got a job at the university, even after I explained my situation.  Plus, since I am working there, I will get a discount, so I can take classes and finally finish my degree,” she said, her enthusiasm growing with each word. 

 

At Gibbs’ blank look, she continued, “I can’t stay here.  I doubt I could get such an offer ever again, especially with my record.”

 

“What about Tim?” Gibbs asked incredulously.  He could care less if Cathy just disappeared into the Arizona desert, but Tim would be devastated that once again he was being abandoned by his mother.

 

Cathy at least had the decency to look troubled, although barely.  “When I came out here, I had some sort of fantasy that included Tim and me back in Arizona, but he has a family here with you now.  I can’t stay and with taking classes and working, I realized I can’t take care of him.”

 

Cathy looked guilty for a minute and then said to Gibbs, “Please don’t tell Tim this, but honestly, I don’t want to stay.  I want to start over.”  Then, in a low voice, she continued, “I want the life that I could’ve had before I got pregnant.  I love Tim, but I can’t be any sort of parental figure for him now.  I need to concentrate on me.  One day, I’ll be in a better place to be a mom …”

 

Gibbs sat back in shock. He couldn’t believe one person could be so selfish. 

 

Cathy put her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please.  This deal only works if you sign off on it.  Tim and I could still write to each other, and I would call him all the time.  I still want to be in his life.  I love him, but I need this.”

 

Gibbs hesitated.  He didn’t want Tim to blame him for this.  As little as he thought of Cathy, with supervised visits, she could still be a good for Tim. 

 

With a sigh he finally reached forward, and picking up the pen he signed the agreement.

 

“I’ll make sure you get a copy,” Mrs. Ruiz said, gathering the papers.   

 

“I want to explain to Tim,” Cathy said, “At the very least, the news should come from me.”

 

Gibbs weighed the pros and cons of that.  On one hand, this time, Tim would at least get an explanation from his mother, on the other hand, hearing it from Gibbs might be better because then Tim could decide if he even wanted to see his mother again.  Gibbs knew no matter how this went down, Tim would be devastated.  Finally, with his heart hurting for his son and the coming days, he said, “I’ll break the news to him, and if he wants to see you after that, I will set it up, but I will not force him to.”  Standing abruptly, Gibbs left the room without a backward glance.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

_Two months later_

 

Jude finished rinsing up the last of the dishes and, placed the last glass on the drying rack.  Even though he was done, he stood at the sink and looked out the window, and watched Tim who was on crutches make his way gingerly down the dirt path.  Arthur was jogging a few feet in front, stopping when he smelled something interesting, until Tim caught up with him; then the pup would continue on.  Tim had offered to help with the washing, but Jude had insisted that Tim needed to get off his feet and rest his ankle.  He still had a walking cast on his leg and if he walked on it for too long, his leg would ache.  Jude was still worried that even though the Tim had grown quite proficient with his crutches, he was one wrong move from doing a header and ending up with two broken limbs.  When Jude saw his friend reach the bottom of the hill, he let out a sigh of relief.  Tim sat down at the picnic table next to the river that flowed gently past the cabin they were staying at.  Gibbs, Tony, and most of the others were down by the river where they were hoped to catch enough fish for this evening’s supper. 

 

Turning away, Jude thought that cabin probably wasn’t the right word.  It was a two story house set in the Appalachian Mountains.  Since everyone had been invited, they had ended up renting something a bit larger then what Gibbs would normally get.  Actually staying at the house were Tim, Jackson, and Gibbs, as well as Ducky and himself, and Abby and Tony.  Jackie, Vance, and the kids were staying in a house down the way.  They would arrive this afternoon, and everyone was to meet for dinner this evening.  So it was a pretty busy place. 

 

Thinking about joining Tim, Jude grabbed his jacket off the hall tree, and an envelope fell from the inside pocket onto the floor. 

 

“Damn it,” he ground out as he pushed his arms through the sleeves.

 

“Here I’ll get that for you my boy,” Ducky said from behind him. 

 

Startled at the sudden appearance of the Doc, Jude jumped and then said, “Oh, it’s okay.”

 

“No problem …” Ducky’s voice trailed off as he read the front of the envelope.  Wide-eyed, he turned to Jude. “This is your GED results.”

 

Jude knew he was busted, so he said, “Yeah I received them right before we left.”

 

Turning the envelope gently in his hand, Ducky said, “You haven’t opened it,” leaving the question of why in the air.

 

Jude settled for shrugging his shoulders, unsure if he wanted Ducky to ask or not.

 

Hearing voices coming up the walkway, Ducky said kindly, “Why don’t we take this into the living room.” 

 

Jude nodded, and they went into the living room, and shut the sliding doors before they sat down on the couch and Ducky handed over the envelope.  Flipping it over and over in his hands, Jude said, “I was too afraid of what it said to open it.”

 

Ducky turned towards him and said gently, “Jude, even if you didn’t pass, you can always take the test again.”

 

“I know,” Jude said softly.  Taking in a deep breath, he slipped his finger under the lip of the envelope and opened it.  He pulled the packet and read it. 

 

“I passed,” Jude said with wonder. 

 

“Well done.  I knew you could do it!” Ducky said enthusiastically patted Jude on the back in congratulations.

 

Jude who couldn’t help smiling back at Doc’s excitement. 

 

“What do you plan to do next?” Ducky asked. 

 

Jude shrugged, stood, and walked across the room before he turned and said, “I know I turn eighteen next year, but I was hoping you would let me stay until I could get a job and save up enough money to afford my own apartment.”

 

Ducky looked taken a back.  Then he walked over to Jude and standing before him and he said, “I think there has been a bit of a miscommunication.  Jude, when I offered you a home, it wasn’t just to put a roof over your head.  I also hoped that you would become part of my family.  I think we have muddled through these past eight months just fine.  Don’t you?”

 

Jude nodded because they had made a good team.  So maybe they could also be a family?  He shook his head, however, “But I don’t want to take advantage of you.  You are too generous for your own good,” he said weakly.

 

Ducky waited until Jude met his gaze and then said, “As my family, I want you to live with me until such a time as you want to be on your own.   Don’t leave out of some misplaced sense of protecting me, but only when the time is right, when you have the skills to have the brilliant future that I know you can have.  And even when you do live elsewhere, I still want you and I to be a family.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” Jude whispered.  He couldn’t believe his but looking into Ducky’s kind eyes, he saw the Doc was telling the truth.  Jude felt a surge of relief sweep through him, and he let go of the last bit of anxiety and fear that he hadn’t even been aware he had been holding onto since his father’s death.

 

Ducky drew him into his arms for a heartfelt hug and said, “Just know I love you.”

 

Jude held on tightly, allowing himself to relax and finally feel he was home.   

 

As they drew apart, Ducky said energetically, “Now that that is settled, I ask again.  What do you want to do next?”

 

Bolstered by Ducky’s acceptance of him and the fact that he now had a family, Jude felt brave enough to say, “I wanted to go to the local JC and maybe start taking classes to get my nursing degree.”

 

“That is a marvelous career choice.  The nurses I have met throughout my career are some of the most caring people.  I can loan you a biography I have of Florence Nightingale,” Ducky said excitedly.

 

Jude couldn’t help grinning, “Thanks, Doc, I will definitely want to read it.  But I have to admit I am unsure where to start, as far as schooling goes.”

 

“I think we should take Florence’s advice on that one.  She once said, ‘So never lose an opportunity of urging a practical beginning, however small, for it is wonderful how often in such matters the mustard-seed germinates and roots itself.’ I know several nurses who have become instructors.  We can contact them and they will be able to steer us in the correct direction,” Ducky said.

 

Jude felt lighter than he had felt in a long time.  He wasn’t alone.  He didn’t have to have all the answers; he could rely on his family.  “Thanks, Ducky.”

 

“No problem, my boy,” Ducky said. “And if you have any more misgivings, just come to me, and we will talk about it.”

 

Jude nodded. “I was going to go down to the river and see if they had any luck.  Do you want to come with?”

 

“Yes of course.”

 

 They got their jackets on and started down the dirt path.

 

“It reminds me of the time I was in the Andes …”

 

Jude couldn’t help fondly smiling at the man walking next to him as he listened to his story that somehow involved llamas, an overturned canoe, and a man that sounded a lot like Sir David Attenborough. 

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Tim sat down on the bench, leaned against the pine tree that was conveniently next to the picnic table, and swung his busted leg up, resting it along the bench.  It twinged a bit as his ankle was still healing, and being on the uneven ground caused Tim to have to move it in unexpected and slightly painful ways.  However he kept that bit of information to himself, worried that Gibbs would want to leave, and he wouldn’t trade being up here for anything. 

 

Arthur sniffed a few trees and then settled down underneath the table.

 

Shutting his eyes, Tim took in a deep breath and just allowed the smell of the forest and the sounds of the wind gently drifting through the trees, the water rushing past, to relax him.  Further down the hill, he could hear Tony, Ziva, and Jackson talking softly as they cast their lines in the water.  His father only spoke up every once in a while when a question was asked of him, otherwise he was quiet.

 

Keeping his eyes closed with his arms folded across his body, Tim allowed the warmth of the sun to soak into his body and make him sleepy.  He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.  As his mind drifted, he thought about school and how he would be in all regular classes in September as he had finally passed his last test and now was fully caught up with the rest of the students.  He was also more hopeful now about the possibility of having friends at school.  There had been a few students from his school who had had to take summer school as well, and they had all gotten to know each other during the month of July.  They had invited Tim to sit with them at lunch, so things were looking up from last year, when Tim sat by himself the whole time. 

 

Then his thoughts drifted almost unbidden to the letter that was resting within the pages of his new journal his mom had given him.  The letter was from his mother, the first of many promised.  Tim had hope that the two of them would stay in regular contact but at the same time he had learned to manage his expectations where Cathy McGee was concerned, with the help of Dr. Patterson and his dad.  Not that it didn’t hurt when a promised phone call or Skype chat never came to be, but he knew she was trying, so in turn he just tried to remind himself of who she was and what he could expect.

 

When his father had come home after seeing Cathy and her lawyer, Tim had known the information wasn’t going to be good just from the look on his face.  After his father had explained, Tim had agreed to meet his mom.  His thoughts were frozen in denial.  His mom, who had just come back into his life, was now leaving.  It didn’t feel real.  It wasn’t until the three of them met at a café near the airport a week later that Tim realized it was true. 

 

Tim and Cathy had gotten a booth, and Gibbs had sat a few booths behind Cathy to give them some space but also to stay within Tim’s eyesight should he need anything.  Tim listened intently to what his mother had to say.  The way she explained why she had to leave made sense, but at the same time, it hurt badly.  He didn’t want to break down in front of her and make her feel worse, so every time he was close, he would look over Cathy’s shoulder and watch Gibbs sip his coffee and pretend to read his newspaper, and it helped.  They only stayed a half hour, as his mom had a plane to catch, and in the end Tim had given her a brief yet awkward hug. 

 

The drive home had been silent and fraught with tension and unshed tears, though once at home, the hug he had given his father in the driveway had been heartfelt, and Tim was finally able to let go of everything.  Liam, Shea, O’Shaughnessy, the kidnapping, his mom, and her leaving him once again.  They had talked long into the night, Gibbs, Jackson, and himself.  His father and grandfather had allowed him to vent, cry, and basically just listened.  It had helped. A lot. 

 

Now, with a few months distance, Tim realized that maybe this was for the best for everyone.  Although she loved him, his mother wasn’t ready to be a mom at least not a full time one.  Gibbs on the other hand was more than willing to be a full time parent; he had opened his heart and his home to a kid who had showed up at his doorstep. 

 

Tim wanted to trust in his mother’s sobriety and her new start, but he didn’t.  How many times had he and his mother started over?  Too many for him to count.  Maybe her new start would work out better without him.  Gibbs, on the other hand, was a rock; Tim knew he could rely on him. 

 

With that comforting thought, Tim allowed the sound of the river to lull him into a light doze.

 

**~NCIS~**

 

Gibbs stood and stretched and then added his latest catch to the fishing cooler.  He was at his limit for the day, so he took his line out of the water, and then rested his fishing rod against a tree.  With what the group had caught, he was sure they would have enough fish for dinner this evening, so with a wave to Tony and Ziva, he grabbed the duffel bag next to his chair and walked up the hill until he was standing next to Tim.  Looking down at his son, Gibbs couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.  Tim had been through so much in the year he had known of him, but at the same time he had come out of that year with so much strength. 

 

When he had left that meeting with Cathy, Gibbs had been so angry that he had driven around D.C. for a couple hours before returning to home to deliver the news to Tim, who had accepted the information with a kind of shell-shocked look on his face.  Gibbs had been worried about how Tim would handle meeting with Cathy, but his son had insisted he wanted to see his mom before she left.  Tim had surprised him.  He had been composed and understanding to a woman who deserved neither.  He had held it together until they had gotten home, but as soon as they pulled into the driveway, Gibbs had opened his arms and Tim had flown into them, and all the emotion Tim had held in since his kidnapping had come tumbling out. 

 

Gently brushing a stray lock of hair off his son’s forehead, Gibbs said, “Hey, Tim.” 

 

Tim blinked sleepily up at him and then smiled, which had Gibbs smiling in return.

 

“You still up for this?”

 

Excited, Tim sat up. He gently, carefully lowered his broken ankle under the table. “Yes.  I really want to learn.” 

 

When Tim had first expressed an interest in trying woodcarving again, Gibbs had been uncertain but he had thought maybe enough time had passed, and also trying it in a different location, would make the difference.  He placed the duffel bag on the table just as Ducky and Jude arrived, and that had Gibbs asking, “Jude, do you want to join us for some woodcarving 101?”

 

Jude answered with an enthusiastic, “Yes.”  He sat down across from Tim, with Ducky sitting next to him. 

 

“Okay, first off, what are the safety rules?” Gibbs asked.  He had been having the boys repeat the rules on and off over the last couple of days backwards and forwards until both knew them like the back of their hands.  As the boys once again recited them, he took all of the safety equipment and wood carving tools out of the duffel and laid them out. 

 

When the boys were done, Gibbs said, “First things first.  Put on your gloves.”  The gloves protected their hands from any cuts that may occur.

 

Both Tim and Jude slipped the gloves on their hands while Gibbs put safety knives next to each of them.  Then he said, “Are you ready?” with a twinkle in his eye.

 

“Yes,” the boys chorused with enthusiasm. 

 

Their smiles dimmed in confusion when Gibbs plunked down two sweet potatoes in front of them.  Enjoying their bewilderment for a moment, with a shared look of amusement with Ducky, Gibbs then set about explaining why they were starting with a vegetable.   How they were easy to carve and thus made the perfect medium for beginner carvers to work with. 

 

The boys looked dubious, but then they picked up the potatoes and started following Gibbs’ instructions, which were interspersed with Ducky’s thoughts and anecdotes.  Jackson joined them just in time to enter his own advice into the mix.  And by the time Tony and Ziva also came up hill with their catch for dinner, both Jude and Tim had carved respectable faces into their sweet potatoes.

 

Everyone praised the boys’ efforts, and Gibbs stowed the gear back into the duffel bags so they could practice more tomorrow.  Then the talk turned to lunch, and the group started up the hill.  Tim hung back and helped Gibbs make sure he had everything, then he surprised Gibbs by giving him a hug and saying, “Thank you.”

 

“For what?” Gibbs asked, a little surprised.

 

“For everything,” Tim said with a shrug as they also started up the hill, Arthur running back and forth between the two groups and barking excitedly.  Then, in an almost whisper, Tim said, “I love you.”

 

Gibbs slung his arm around Tim’s shoulders and said softly, “I love you, too.” 

 

As the group made their way back up to the cabin, Gibbs couldn’t help but feel truly blessed in that moment.  He had a family again. 

 

**The End**


End file.
